


By the Fires of Camelot

by SapphireNight



Series: By the Fires of Camelot/ By the Trials of Night [1]
Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Flogging, Friendship, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Possible Character Death, Torture, Whipping, off-page violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-23
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireNight/pseuds/SapphireNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon arriving back in Camelot, Arthur has stumbled straight into a nightmare. The crowd gathers for fire; the King preaches his accusations; and the torch is lowered to Merlin's bound feet. By the fires of Camelot will Arthur decide the Warlock's fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Firstly, I would like to say an enormous thank you to my two amazing betas, Princess Alyra and Speedy Speck. Both of you have been an incredible help, and absolutely brilliant to work with. So thank you again!
> 
> Secondly, a note about the future of this story: it's all planned. I have a very detailed plot all written down and have already written the following 3500 words to this chapter, so know this: I'm not stopping. I have material for the next 3-4 chapters already written just awaiting editing, and two amazing betas who will not let me lose focus. So I make this promise to all you reading now- THIS STORY IS NOT STOPPING HERE.
> 
> It's my birthday today, a very special number in our family, so this story is a present to you as much as it is to me. By the love of God, please tell me you like it!
> 
> Anyway, that is enough chatter from me. Thanks for clicking, and I hope you love the chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

Arthur stared, paralysed by shock. For one blissful moment, he thought he must have been dreaming, but the visions which assaulted him were too impossibly unreal to be a fantasy of the night.

No, this had to be something more; something more horrifying, more terrifying than all of Arthur's nightmares put together.

Reality.

.

Arthur had been exiled from Camelot. For his own good. Banished for the past week, a week where nightmares had plagued his every sleeping (and waking) moment. His people, dying. People he knew, his friends- sickening, succumbing to the awful disease. He dreamed of returning to a once great kingdom laying in desolate ruin, to a city inhabited by the dead.

Even from the beginning, the disease that had infiltrated Camelot had been the stuff of nightmares. The entire city had been unable to sleep for days, living in fear of where the sickness would strike next, or wrestling hollow sleepless nights sitting by the bedside while the sick succumbed further and further towards their fate.

The disease had been slow in spreading, yet struck with unnerving accuracy those with political or social power. People who meant something to the running of the city. The obvious load bearing pillars of society; to the invisible, indispensible cogs of the system alike. It had choked each victim with a strangle hold; strong gallant men unable to support their own weight; good women lying with skin ashen as dust, even the children weeping dead blood from their nail pits and eyes.

Among the sick were people Arthur knew: Sir Leon, the head cook, the court scholar (his favourite teacher as a boy); even the self-righteous librarian had been taken ill as well, as well as several key courtiers who personally advised the King. Four of the court's children. He'd heard tell of the sickness in the lower city- the blacksmith who had replaced Gwen's father had also been struck down, as well as the owners of the larger farms and stall sellers.

One day everything had been fine- Merlin had been inexplicably late as usual, having completely disappeared the day before (yet again); and then the lower town had been disrupted by four of the most liked villagers falling ill. It wouldn't have even reached the King if it wasn't for Sir Leon also succumbing to the mysterious weakness at the same time. The next day the upper town was under siege by infirmity. The day after, with fifteen people under Gaius's care and three beyond it, what was left of the Royal Court made the decision to send Crowned Prince Arthur away from Camelot.

And that was the last he knew of the fate of his beloved town. He had argued with his father; yelled, pleaded; demanded, even, but the King would not back down. Arthur had been sent packing, and expected to leave within the hour. Arthur hadn't even had the opportunity to talk to Merlin before he left; the boy had been confined to the newly re-established hospital wing in order to help Gaius. No, Arthur had just slipped quietly under the great city's gates with no one the wiser, riding out to a neighbouring kingdom to plead for help that was impossible to administer.

Arthur had been told not to return to Camelot for at least a month. He had been told to take refuge until the first signs of spring. He had been told it was for the good of the city; that preserving the only heir would ensure Camelot's continued survival- irrespective of what size Camelot may be upon returning. He had been told that it was for the best, that this wasn't something which he could help with; that he didn't have a choice.

Arthur was never very good with following orders he didn't agree with.

The Prince had stopped at the boundary to his kingdom, making camp a full two day's journey from the City. Three days later his resolve failed him, and he rode back towards his home. He was at Camelot's gates by noon the next day, having ridden through the night. No nightmares plagued him during the journey.

Now, the terrors of the night had invaded his waking day.

Riding through the deserted city, Arthur feared that the worst had come to pass. Where was everyone? Surely they couldn't all be... No, there would be evidence if the disease had overtaken the entire town- bodies, lining the roads. Doors left open, food decaying. Signs that Camelot had just... Stopped. Arthur hurriedly comforted himself that there were none of those; and yet, where were all the people? The only time they all gathered in one tight place was for an execution, or statement from the King, yet why would he orchestrate death when the city had been in the clutches of an epidemic?

The sight that greeted him upon entering the citadel courtyard was one he couldn't comprehend.

Arthur felt terror choke his very being, freezing the blood in his veins. Bile flooded his stomach. His throat constricted; his heart beat harder, faster, the heavy percussion berating against his mind, beating against his thoughts, reducing them to nothing but the pure sensory input which stormed his body:

The ice in his veins;

The resonant drumbeat playing the executioner's march in his ear;

The sight of his best friend standing on the raised stage like a coldblooded criminal, surrounded by towering stacks of straw as Arthur's own father damned him to the fires of hell from the balcony above.

Because, there, standing on the small platform before the masses of Camelot, his frail from swathed in an oversized dirty shirt despite the chill in the near-winter air, was Merlin. The frequency with which he got into trouble made the situation practically laughable, however, if it wasn't for the fact that this current situation was so completely terrible, so _utterly wrong_ , Arthur wouldn't have been standing there utterly paralysed by fear. Merlin looked so lost, yet there was an odd stoicism buried deep in his eye, as if he was somehow resigned to his fate. He was shaking and shivering, his face contorted into a mask of sheer pain. His eyes were wild with terror as they danced from face to face, his grey brow glistening with beaded sweat. Merlin's features were darkened by vivid bruises, the dirt covering his skin broken by several wet tracks that seeped silently from his piercing eyes. He swayed between his two captors, each of them gripping his arm with a crushing hand as if his lightness was a precursor to fleeing. Around them, a dull light drizzle wetted the air. In spite of this, the courtyard was crowded, all of the villages looking on with sombre gazes, the knowledge that death by this fire would be a slow and torturous affair.

At the King's command, the two men forced Merlin back, the boy stumbling as they dragged him against his balance back towards the stake. The panic in Arthur's throat renewed, and he started charging forwards, pushing his way through the crowd. Merlin's back and shoulders hit the heavy pole with force and he visibly winced, his whole body twitching in pain. The two men took no notice as they fastened their convict to the stake, the tears now coming thick and fast down the boy's face, yet only small whimpers emitted from his mouth. Arthur continued running forward, now forcing people out of his way as they stood transfixed by what would shortly become Merlin's last moments.

Uther was approaching the climax to his executioners speech. One of the guards had lit a torch in readiness, holding it out for the crowd to see and raising it until it was blazing directly before the condemned boy's eyes. Uther continued preaching.

Merlin's face was now one of agonised terror, his eyes darting from one face to another as if seeking a saviour before glancing up to the sky in search of solace or rescue.

For one moment, his eyes landed on the King. The reaction was instantaneous; Uther's anger distorted into unrestrained rage and he jolted his gaze away, covering his fluster with a sneer of distain before restarting his broken sentence; the words punctuated with even greater vehemence and disgust. Arthur continued moving.

Merlin's desperate gaze finally met Arthur's. The moment that passed between the two pierced the Prince with yet another wave of nausea. Shame. He had seen shame on his servant's face. The look had been a mixture of helplessness and hope springing across his eyes, but also present was shame. Arthur's mouth numbed.

The Prince lunged onto the execution platform with an expert leap, grabbed the determinedly fizzling torch out of the guard's hand and turned to confront his father.

"Stop, this must stop at once! Sire, I do not know what has happened during the past week, but this cannot happen! This just cannot- I mean, what the hell has Merlin done this time to deserve such a punishment?"

"Don't interfere with things you don't understand."

"But Father!"

"Silence. You were not here, you cannot possibly understand what has happened. Your servant has been sentenced to death though he deserves far worse for his crimes. I will not argue with you out in public; move out of the way and we can resume this inside."

"After my servant is dead, you mean? Father, I won't let this happen. By all means, we can discuss this in private, but only after I have had a chance to talk to my servant. It is only fair that I get to hear from his own lips what he is being punished for."

"He is being punished for sorcery, of the most despicable kind."

Arthur faltered, regarding Merlin once more with hesitant eyes. "Then that is something which I need to discuss with him. As Crowned Prince, and as his master, it is my right."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Firstly, Happy New Year, and I hope you all had a Merry Christmas as well!
> 
> Secondly, the biggest apology for the delay. I was intending on getting this up within three weeks of the first chapter, however an important project took over, and I wasn't able to spare fanfiction that much time. But I was back and ready to continue midway through December... and then I was struck down by the flu. Yep. The big lurgie, and it completely took me out. I've only now been able to shake it off and get back to finishing this off for you. So, biggest apologies for the delay.
> 
> Thirdly, I am not entirely sure whether I can complete this story. As I mentioned before, I have about 4000 words written- part of which is in this chapter, but there should be enough for another two or three chapters; and the entire plot mapped out, but it is looking unlikely that I will have the time to write and complete the story beyond the section that I have already written. I will of course keep you updated with each chapter, and if anyone would like to pick this up after I have written all I can and continue the story further, then I am very happy to consider them based on their current works. But otherwise, when I am finished and a continuation is unlikely, I will do my best to give a detailed description of the rest of the story if that is what people would like. I am not at that point yet, so do not worry. But I thought you should know.
> 
> Lastly, thanks to all those who have been reading this fic, an a big thanks to those who reviewed, favourite and author alerted. Another thanks to both Bethybonbons for your wonderfully touching comments, and Ultra-Geek for your well wishes!
> 
> I hope even more of you like this chapter! If you do, please review, and tell me your favourite line (pad out those small reviews)!

As Arthur made his way through the dungeons, he didn't know what to expect. Every possible question spinning round his head, every single preconceived notion; but as he neared the cell within which he knew his manservant was being held, his mind simply refused to cooperate.

Arthur's father had barely reacted after he had demanded Merlin's release from the stake. His mind kept flashing to the image on the King's face, the look of guarded disappointment and fury etched behind those cold distant eyes, the rigid stature frozen as the courtyard waited in eerie silence. The torch flame spluttered and coughed under the depressing drizzle. For what seemed like several minutes, Uther just stood gazing down at his son; horror and embarrassment stirred within Arthur's gut as he looked between the two men in all Camelot he could not injure. The Kind finally gestured at one of the guards to unbind Merlin from the stake.

"This is not an acquittal nor an exoneration. The man you see before you has been charged and sentenced to burn for the crimes of witchcraft and sorcery. After my _son_ is finished with him, he will then be brought back out to serve his sentence by fire. Take him back to his cell and secure him there; leave the wood; the rain will not wash it away before tomorrow."

The drizzle had transformed into a steady light rain as Merlin was led away back to the cells; Arthur thought he possibly saw tears mingling with rain washing his face, but he couldn't be sure. The boy had no energy; he moved as if in a dream, listlessly, the guards practically carrying him back to his cell, his feet dragging as he shuffled them weakly. There was no fight in him, no warmth or bright spark; he was dead, he just hadn't died yet.

Taking one last glance up at the King above on the balcony (he had in turn refused to acknowledge his son's presence) Arthur followed the prisoner out of the courtyard. Gwen and Gaius had stood by the castle entrance; as Merlin passed, Gwen had tried to reach out to comfort him, but the guards jerked the boy away from her hands. It was Gaius who then placed his arm round her shoulders.

Gaius had assured the Prince that the charge was true, that Merlin was indeed a sorcerer. And yet, Arthur's mind wasn't capable of registering that. He had stared blankly at Gaius, regarding him like an invalid. Then he announced, "Has everyone just gone completely insane? What on Earth- What _possessed_ you to believe these ridiculous, heinous rumours? By God, haven't we gone through this enough? Why aren't you defending him? Merlin's no sorcerer, he's too stupid! Haven't we learnt this already by the last two times he was stupidly arrested for suspicion of magic? Come on, he's _Merlin,_ for God's sake! He can barely wake me up on time most mornings, how can anyone believe he has any power?"

"Sire, it is true. Merlin is a-"

"No, Gaius, I can't accept that. I won't believe that my loyal man servant, _my friend_ , is a traitor to the city. I won't believe that he has been lying to me all this time."

With a tortured cry Gwen tore herself away from Gaius and hurried in towards the castle, her hands covering her face. Arthur felt the guilt clutch at his chest, but he looked to Gaius as stonily as ever. The old man continued in his solemn quiet hush.

"Of course he hasn't betrayed you, he could never, ever do that. You know him as well as I, he looks up to you like a brother. You're his closest friend; go and talk to him properly. Don't let your imagination runaway, sire, he would never do anything to harm you, but you have to accept the fact that he is also a warlock. And, a pretty powerful one," his eyebrow raised in a ghost of amusement before his face set stonily again, "but entirely loyal to you, sire. Talk to him."

Arthur relented. "God, this is madness. Gaius, what happened to the people who were sick? No one has told me anything about them; the kingdom was close to collapse when I left, half of the court was close to dying. What is the death count; what happened?"

Gaius sighed, his body deflating as it did when his ward displayed an act of idiocy. "That precisely is why we are in this mess. Two days after you left, Merlin took it upon himself to heal them. He knew the dangers but his conscience got the better of him. He acted only at the last possible moment. The City was falling, he did it because he thought he needed to. That is why he has been sentenced to death; Merlin healed everyone back to full heath. And he's going to die for it. Sire, you really need to talk to him."

Arthur walked away feeling more confused than before he had talked to Gaius. Following the Merlin's footsteps five minutes previously, he glided towards the dungeons, his mind burning with ravening questions and accusations, but above all, an uncertainty which mixed chillingly with the numbing confusion.

So cold, yet burning hot.

The imagination plays games with the minds of doubt.

He saw Merlin, his funny, pathetic little clumsy Merlin, sitting behind those bars with his knees coddled under his chin in terror. He saw him pleading for his master to get him out, to help him; that it was all just a silly mistake, a pack of lies; his eyes burning with terror and innocence.

And then Arthur saw him in another way; a way which his very own nightmares had brazened into his head on an occasional cold restless night; confounding his mind and bemusing his senses. Merlin, standing against the furthest part of the cell, back resting against the cool stone wall. Merlin, his small, funny face contorted with malice, eyes alight with confidence, his mind possessed by evil.

Merlin, his very being glowing with alien pride, saying, "You don't know how many times I have tried. All these years, I've stood by your side, and you never even realised. All these years, you've trusted me, and I've simply been twisting the knife deeper in your side."

And then, there was a third option. Of seeing that kind, defenceless Merlin curled up in a ball, pleading with the future king, telling of lies, begging for his life; only for that nightmarish, superior mask to slip into place just as Arthur believes him. He can see it now, that sudden shift, from innocence to malevolence. And yet on Merlin's face, it all looked so foreign, so _not-meant-to-be_.

" _All these years I've fought to bring down the house of Pendragon, and now, it's finally come true."_ _No!_

Worst of all, he feared the first option. He hoped for it with all his might, pleaded with all his heart had to offer- that Merlin was not evil, that Merlin was still Merlin, but that was what Arthur feared the most. That Merlin was the same kind, bright Merlin, and that Arthur would surely be powerless but to send him to his death. The sentence has already been set; the verdict cast. There was no escaping it now. In King Uther's eyes, Merlin was a sorcerer, and now his fate was set. Arthur could cope if his once trusted friend was revealed to be evil and punished for it. Yes, it would hurt like hell, and would take some time to get over; years, possibly; but it was something Arthur knew he would be able to forgive himself for and survive from. Ridding Camelot of evil, that was his purpose. However, if Merlin was innocent, though; if Merlin was the same old, carefree innocent Merlin that Arthur had known for the past three years; then executing him would surely kill Arthur too. He would not be able to survive the guilt.

* * *

It was by some sort of sick malevolent fascination that Arthur's mind kept flitting back to one ridiculous memory. It was just a slight thought that had strayed through his mind for the barest second of time; Arthur had been running through the courtyard, desperate to reach the executioners pyre before the King gave the signal, and that one, stupid little thought had entertained his mind. He had possibly chuckled for one split second, yet it was now haunting his mind like yet another sick perverted personal humiliation.

 _He hadn't been able to fathom the scene surrounding him. The pyre; the shamed expression on his friend's face, the hate in his father's eye. It was all too... ridiculous. He know that whatever lunacy Merlin had done this time, it couldn't possibly have warranted this. Or if it had (_ of course it had, they're _burning_ him _), then Arthur felt he deserved a good, long hard chat with his manservant before they toasted him alive and served him for dinner. By the blood frenzy in Arthur's father's eyes, he looked as if he could happily have dined on human meat- possibly even raw. Maybe Merlin had spoiled the royal food yet again- but then why would they be roasting him alive for it? Was the king really that hungry for human flesh?_

Of all the stupid, idiotic things... Of all the incoherent, blasphemous treacherous treasonous thoughts to have possessed him... It had flitted through his mind for one split second, yet now on that everlasting walk towards the dungeons, Arthur pondered what had possessed him to think that.

 _SORCERER_

 _No!_

Could it possibly have been a sorcerer's touch, or just the normal haphazard ramblings of a terrified adolescent mind?

* * *

Arthur's dark thoughts continued to pound his skull, the 'what if's' and 'maybe's' scouring his cranium like the tides wearing down the surrounding rock. His feet are bringing him too close, too quickly; not close enough. The solitary guard stood nervously by the entrance to the final corridor, his hands clammy, his feet itching. Arthur past with an unnerving sense of trepidation; something was not right, something should not be there; _Merlin should not be there._ The cell is the last in the small corridor, it's bars were fortified with iron, the walls are as thick as those surrounding the city's. It is a cell for the dangerous, a cell for the condemned. _The cell for a sorcerer._

 _NO!_

 _It can't be right, how can it be right?_

 _Merlin would never-_

Could _never-_

 _How could he ever?_

' _It's true, sire, he's a warlock'_

' _Sorcerer! MURDERER!'_

 _NO!_

 _That's not possible!_

 _But what if..._

 _Preposterous!_

 _Dark eyes, haunted soul._

 _No. He's just-_

 _._

 _Where is he?_

The cell appeared empty. A figure should have been seen lying on the floor, or clutching by the bars, but Merlin is not there. Arthur's throat constricts with dread.

 _No._

 _So it's true?_

 _The sorcerer has escaped._

.

Then, the figure at the far corner of the cell stirred. Arthur saw hardened, brutal eyes; that cold smile; no, a sneer, as the traitor slowly unfolds himself, standing to reveal his true treacherous nature.

 _No!_

Arthur shook his head, then looked on in another kind of horror as a truth finally dawned on his tortured mind.

Merlin was huddled in a tight oval ball. His back was rigidly flat, his legs brought up and knees stowed tightly under his chin. His eyes were sombre and quiet. As Merlin's gaze rose to meet Arthur's, Arthur knew his heart would surely be ripped to shreds. It was Merlin.

His Merlin. The friend he has known and trusted and had relied upon, that he had helped and pleaded for and known three long years. Merlin. His lone, sorry Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. More to come, though I can't promise how soon.
> 
> Please, if you liked, review. And if you can't think of things to say, copy over your favourite line- that at least gives you something to write! Thanks again for reading.


	3. Conversing with the Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, biggest apologies for the delay in getting this up. General life got ahead of me, so it took a little longer than planned to get this chapter perfected.
> 
> Also, I would like to praise my new beta Obsidian Blade for an amazing job well done, especially at such short notice and with rather a lot of complex word choices on my part which made the text near impossible to read coherently. Really saved this chapter, and made uploading possible. So the biggest thank you to you, and I hope we can work together again.
> 
> (No spoilers during this chapter) Italicised phrases/lines denote thoughts (just one word italicised is for emphasis). Kinda standard stuff, but I thought I'd reiterate it since I'm using it regularly here.

As Arthur drew up to the cell bars, he was able to take in Merlin's true full countenance. His friend cut a small figure crouched in the darkness, caged in like a boxed animal which had long since lost hope at ever escaping. The rain that had finally washed over the execution scene had done nothing to remove the thin layer of grime from his face, nor return his oversized shirt to its original true colour. It had saturated his hair, settling it into needles which protruded onto his forehead, drawing fine tendrils of water over his flesh.

Merlin started moving. Carefully he unfolded upon himself, his eyes all the while penetrating Arthur's with a quiet, cautious fear as he shuffled towards the bars beyond which his friend stood.

The prince suddenly found himself without anything to say. He hadn't exactly come with a speech or argument fully prepared; he had hoped that it would all fall into place when he arrived at the cell, but now he found he just didn't know what to say. How on earth should he start? 'Sorry'? 'So, what did you do this time?', 'Cursed sorcerer, you will burn; but first, please explain what the hell's been going on?' _How could you. I classed you as a friend, and this is how you repay me._ 'You know, there's a funny rumour going round the lower town; I wonder if you've heard it. They say you're...' _I thought you were a friend._ 'Er- so who's the clot-pole now?' _Merlin? Are you still there?_

Arthur's mind just refused to work. Annoyingly, the only way it functioned was to point out useless bits of information that Arthur would rather not think about. The way Merlin's hands were still bound under the heavy chains which dangle uselessly from his palms and restrain him to the cell. The way the tight chords bit into the raw flesh beneath. The oddly familiar nature of the colourless tunic he wore; some old anonymous rag stripped off the back of a deceased prisoner, Arthur knew. His mind called out how unusual it was to see Merlin wearing something so bland or lifeless. Where was the worn blue tunic he was used to? Lying ripped and shredded somewhere. His mind screamed at how the dark stain on the left shoulder looked so much like blood.

 _Focus._

Dark hollows haunted the boy's eyes; the dark marks which also mar his prominent cheekbones cover the flesh of both arms under the wretched tunic. Arthur cleared his throat. Now or never; he had to stop the arduous whirring of his mind. He disregarded everything his brain had to say and spurted the first thing which came to mind.

"What the hell is going on?"

 _It could have been worse_.

Merlin stared, regarding the royal pain-in-the-arse as he took a few nervous steps back and forth in the impression of pacing. The prince never paced; not unless something was deeply and utterly wrong.

There couldn't have been anything more wrong then this current situation.

"Didn't they tell you? I'm evil. I'm a warlock. I deserve death for every heinous act I have never committed."

Arthur stilled. "Don't say that. This is not you; you're not- you don't..."

"Then tell me what I am supposed to say. Because you heard the King; it's true, I'm-"

"Have you been possessed?" interjected Arthur thoughtfully. "I mean it; are you being manipulated by magic, is a sorcerer controlling you? Because then it's not you- you're not to blame, you can't be held accountable for that- they can't kill you now-" he rushed hopefully.

Merlin looked affronted. "Is that the first thing which comes into your mind, 'possession'? God, heaven help Camelot if you're the only heir. Do you really think I'd let some sorcerer control me?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I come back home after three days and the entire population of Camelot have lost their minds. May I remind you you were tied to the post ready for execution; the flames were that close. Possession seems a very reasonable assumption. And it's the only reason that makes sense for my manservant to be accused of sorcery."

Merlin was silent. His face seemed to weaken somehow, a cold reserve wrought frail.

"Then tell me why," Arthur breathed silently.

The steady hollow echo of nothingness reverberated through the depths of the dungeon. It took several moments, but the defiant mask finally broke and the lonely boy was revealed beneath the pieces.

"I couldn't let them die, Arthur. Your father-"

Arthur cut him off. "Yes, but... Magic?" _Come on, Merlin, stay on topic here._ In an unusual way, falling back into his usual belithering arrogance and the natural dialogue which existed between the Prince and his server _; between the friend and his friend;_ seemed to be the easiest way for him to question Merlin and still keep sane. This interview, this _interrogation_ should never be happening. The idea of confronting his good friend; _it's no use denying it now;_ was as alien as seeing him trussed up and writhing in agony, screaming in the flames. It couldn't happen, but it was, it was happening right now. If only he could get through to the dunderhead, maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on.

"I couldn't have let them die, you would never have forgiven me. Your father-"

"My father again! Tell me, Merlin, apart from being a right prat in front of the one sure person who would get you killed, just what do you think you were doing? Because I have to tell you," He gave a dark chuckle, "I'm still not convinced about this whole 'magic' thing at all."

Merlin sighed, slumped himself back propping himself against the ground with his elbows and stared up at the ceiling. Finally, he rounded his gaze back at him. Arthur felt strangely uncomfortable under the power of the blue orbs.

"Yes, I have magic. Yes, I have used it and no, I have never regretted having it. I never told you before because..."

"Go on."

"I couldn't trust how you would react."

' _I couldn't trust you'_ Arthur's mind called.

"Whether you'd hear me out or imprison me, run to your father and have me beheaded. I guess I needn't have worried."

Arthur wanted to scream. To shout and grab Merlin's dingy shirt and shake him and punch him; to hurt him, to make him cry. Anything other than the stony cold glare that came from Merlin's dead body.

Arthur was silent.

With a vivid shock of clarity, reality opened up before him, the world seemed real. Merlin was going to die. No, the accusations were not false. Yes, he had been practicing, and had kept it from him. No, he didn't regret his actions. _But what actions? Has anyone actually told you what he did yet?_ That cool, crisp image of Merlin with the piercing red eyes fluttered forward briefly. He was powerless to stop it now; Merlin would have to be executed. He had readily admitted his crime before the one man willing to help him; before the highest authority under the King. Merlin would burn in the flames tomorrow night. Arthur suddenly found himself talking to a corpse.

"I'm sorry. That- that wasn't fair.'

A blunt tooth finally crushed through the abused flesh of Arthur's lip. Bile flooded his throat as the familiar sweet coppery tang infiltrated his mouth with precision timing. It choked him. Too much blood.

"Arthur, your father became sick. Really sick. The disease struck him down with such force, so much faster than before, we didn't realise he was ill until he was down. That's why Gaius sent you away, the disease was rooting him out, going for people of power. And why I had to stay back, to help with the cure. It was Magic. A magic disease. Gaius did all that he could, but in the end, it had to be magic that stopped it."

There was a beat of silence.

"But my father wasn't sick. When he forced me to leave, he wasn't-"

 _He wouldn't let me within three metres of him._

"He lied to me."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome new readers, and welcome back old ones! It's been a while, I know. As I have previously mentioned, this story is fully mapped out, and did have a fair amount of it written. I am nearly at the end of that pre-written stuff, so writing more will be harder and more time consuming from now on. However, and this is important, I WILL continue if given encouragement. I am not simply saying this to generate more reviews, because God knows I hate reviews which consist of just a few words, 'Please continue' or 'Good work. Continue.'- Please, if you dont have a lot to say and just want to show your appreciation for the story, copy in your favourite line! That's all! And thank you for liking and wanting to review!
> 
> But as I say, it will take time and effort to continue this, but if I know I still have a readership- if I know people still really want to keep reading, then I WILL continue writing it. And trust me- the next chapter or two are really juicy, I will enjoy getting them out on paper. But please- if you dont want this to be the last chapter- TELL ME!
> 
> Finally, I would like to say a big 'THANK YOU' and 'WELCOME' to YOU for reading. I really hope you enjoy this latest chapter!
> 
> This chapter is unbetad.

“That’s why Gaius had you sent away. And why I had to stay back, to help with the cure. It was Magic. A magic disease. Gaius did all that he could, but in the end, it had to be magic that stopped it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“But my father wasn’t sick. When he forced me to leave, he wasn’t-” Arthur broke off as the truth hit him.

“He lied to me...”

“He was protecting Camelot.” Merlin replied quietly. “The people needed to know Camelot was safe. If they knew Uther was ill, it would be chaos. You know what would happen if Camelot loses its king.”

“But he could have told me!”

“Arthur...” Merlin called softly, his eyes forgiving. The prince stopped; he already knew the answer. He would never have left.

Arthur was looking pensive, his eyes scouring the ground as he took in Merlin’s words. He looked back at his servant with renewed curiosity.

“You say the disease was magic, that magic caused it?”

Merlin drew back, frowning.

“No, Arthur. You can’t think that it... It was not me! Just because magic-”

“Merlin, I wasn’t even suggesting that.”

Arthur broke away, caught off-guard. He didn’t even know what he had been suggesting, but it hurt to think that’s all Merlin thought of him. He let out a brief stuttering chuckle, his face sliding oh-so-easily into its usual mirth.

“Hey, come on, I did not say that. When did I ever say that!” He paused, crossing his arms smugly. “You’re a little touchy, aren’t you.”

Merlin glared at him. “Oh, and don’t you think I have every right to be? You’re not the one behind bars, awaiting a fiery execution. Aren’t I allowed to get a bit worried if my friend thinks I’m pure evil?” Arthur stood frozen. The bottom of Merlin’s stomach suddenly dropped.

“‘Master’, what my master thinks. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t care about servants or how they feel about of you, I just... I just want you to understand. I need you to understand. This is who I am. This is a part of me; it always has been for as long as I can remember. Please believe me I never lied to you, Arthur. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t. But I did care. I thought... I’ve always thought of you as my friend, even if the King’s son can’t be friends with a servant, I’ve always looked out for you. I’ve always tried to help you. Just don’t think that I’ve betrayed you, because I haven’t. I couldn’t. Ever... do that.”

Arthur let out a stuttering breath, his face deathly white. A vertical line below his left eye began to glitter in the torchlight; he hastily wiped it away, and then sank to the floor as if all strength had deserted him.

“You know what, I just don’t get it. Why did you come to Camelot when it’s the one place where magic is punishable by death? I know you’re thick, Merlin, but you’re not that big a dunderhead; why did you come here? Why on earth did you stay?”

“My mother sent me here. She said I had to start living my life, that I wouldn’t be able to grow up if I stayed in Ealdor.”

“I’m not sure you’ve even managed to do that much here.” Merlin sent Arthur a weak look.

“Pppff. She sent me to Gaius. What was I supposed to do? Turn around and go back home? I’d been walking for two days straight! And yeah, okay, that doesn’t seem like much now, but back then I’d never gone a few hours from Ealdor.”

“Yes, but Merlin,” Arthur said calmly, “You needn’t have stayed. Why did you?”

“To protect you. Oh, come on! Do I really have to say it? I’ve been helping you for three years.”

“‘Helping me’? Merlin, what exactly do you mean?”

A little light popped up in Arthurs head. He gave a hesitant chuckle before throwing his head back and barked out a few laughs.

“Oh, my- Merlin, do you really think that I’ve been in need of help? That I’ve needed you to help me out with your magical powers! Merlin, you clot pole, I’m the king’s son! I’m the best knight in Camelot, the best fighter, I’ve proven that to the people time and time again! Do you really think that I’ve needed my manservant to survive all this time!?”

“Yes! Do you know how many times I had to save your royal backside, and I’ve never gotten any credit for it?”

“Oh, you are such an ignoramus! Merlin, how many of your own concoctions have you been inhaling? All this magic’s gotten to your head; muddled you around a little bit.” Arthur stuck his hand through the bars and scratched at Merlin’s hair. Merlin leaned out of reach and batted the hand away. “How many times, Merlin? Magic is dangerous. Evil, possibly, but certainty not to be trusted, and not to be played around with. You should never have started studying it in the first place.”

“Arthur, I never one day picked up a book and decided that I wanted to cast spells. I had never even seen a magic book until I came to Camelot.”

“‘Until you came to Camelot’? Merlin! You’ve been studying within these walls? That’s enough for you to be executed instantly!”

Merlin gave a low chuckle.

“Oh, you don’t even need that much. Just look at me. I heal twelve people, and I’m instantly convicted. Uther doesn’t care what the magic is, just so long as it isn’t wielded by anyone.”

“Okay, listen. I’m not saying I agree with my father’s sentencing, (or that you even managed to do that), but why on earth did you do it? Why on earth did you come to Camelot when magic was banned?”

“I told you; I didn’t know!”

“Are you sure your mother didn’t either?”

There was a deathly silence.

“Don’t you dare suggest that. I may have been just a big embarrassment; I may be a freak of magic, but don’t you dare say my mother tried to kill me.”

“I’m sorry. That was completely stupidly... insensitive. But, ignoring the rest of it, why couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, gotten rid of it when you first realised you had these... talents. Despite all previous evidence to the contrary, you really aren’t quite as idiotic as you let out to be. Why didn’t you do something to stop the power growing?”

“What would you have me do, Arthur?” Merlin growled. “I can’t get rid of it, it’s part of me, I never had a choice. I’ve never known an existence without magic, I didn’t even know any better; I’d die without it.” The prince sighed and looked away in defeat. The next words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them; a soft utterance which rang perfectly clear.

“So now you’re gonna die because of it”

The look which Merlin fixed Arthur was indescribable. Hatred, defiance; disgust. Shame; that was Arthur’s. He cringed against the onslaught which started with little more than a whisper.

“What was I supposed to have done? Tied sacks of rocks to my body and jumped into Ealdor’s river? Tie a rope around my neck and jump from the rafters of my home? Is that what I’m supposed to have done? And when should I have done it? Come on, Arthur, when would you have decreed that I should have taken my own life? When I arrived in Camelot? If you haven’t forgotten, I saved your life that night. I saved Gaius’s the first time I ever walked through his door. Or should I have done it when my mother asked me to come here, to try and get a better life for myself?”

“Merlin-”

“Or, I dunno, when I turned of age, because I was now a man. Or what about before that? What about the time I first used powerful magic on someone other than my mother? I saved a man’s life, at just thirteen. Or how about the very first time I saved my mother, when a blown ember from the fire set our roof alight. I was eight years old the first time I saved a life! No? No. Would you have wanted me to do it the first time I realised I was truly different from everybody else? Answer me, Arthur, is that when you would have seen me killed? A three year old boy?”

“Merlin, please-” Arthur whispered, the tears now free flowing down his face.

“Or would you have condemned my mother as well, just for giving birth to me? Go on, Arthur, tell me! What was I supposed to do?”


	5. Sound of Silence

**  
  
**

**  
Chapter 5    
**

**  
And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains in the Sound of Silence.   
**

(Italicised bit at start is from the end of the previous chapter.)

~*~*~

 _"Merlin, please-" Arthur whispered, the tears now free flowing down his face._

 __

 _"Or would you have condemned my mother as well, just for giving birth to me? Go on, Arthur, tell me! What was I supposed to do?"_

Merlin's voice rang out across the entire dungeons. There was a heady pause, punctuated by Merlin's heavy breathing, the slight scuff of fabric and metal on stone as he shifted backwards, slumping with defeat and exhaustion.

Arthur remained paralysed. Tears washed down his face, yet he couldn't bring himself to wipe them away. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare helplessly at his wreck of a friend. The air remained thick with accusations and despair, a darkening, oppressive weight that had Arthur's throat constricting against saying whatever needed to be said.

"I don't know."

Three soft words, barely more than a whisper. The silence still hung, but it was softer now, the weight and tension diffused. Now, the silence was just hopelessness. Mournful and desolate. Sorrowful.

The silence followed them for several more minutes, the two young men just sitting on the cold stone floor simply watching each other as the quietness grew more and more... boring. Wasteful. Arthur found that he still had hundreds of questions bubbling up within him, yet now for some reason they weren't the harsh accusations or puzzlements that they had once previously been. Now, his thoughts were more... curious. Inquisitive; playful even. But now it just seemed wrong to start asking them, the vision of Merlin's bent head behind the thick iron bars _right before him_ emblazoned in his brain. He still couldn't comprehend the situation they were in- the sight of Merlin in chains was as alien and _wrong_ as it had ever been; and to be honest, he still couldn't fathom the idea that Merlin was apparently a warlock, but it seemed as though his mind had side-stepped that issue for now. Now, his mind was just as curious and flippant as it had ever been.

Or perhaps, just as juvenile.

"Show me."

"What?" Merlin replied, completely taken aback.

"Do some magic for me. Show me this power that you supposedly have."

"What? I—er, No!" Merlin stuttered, now regarding Arthur with a hint of his usual incredulousness. His body however still remained sunken with defeat. "No! Don't you think I-"

"What? Too scared? How am I supposed to believe you are this all powerful sorcerer-"

" _Warlock._ "

"-warlock, then, if you can't even show me a single trick? I mean, come on! What- did you _magic_ every last piece of _magic_ you had curing people? Is healing a dozen strangers too much for you, you can't perform a simple little trick for your friend?"

"What! No, of course not! It's just... I don't want to make things worse." Merlin eventually sighed. His face had gone solemn again.

"There's always a bright side with you, isn't there? How can anything be worse than they already are? All I want is to see a little bit of magic."

"I just... Don't want to do it in front of you."

"What!" Arthur cried, incredulous!

" _You scared to show me your 'talents'_?" he cooed in a sing-song voice.

"Don't be ridiculous! Everything's just a game to you but if I show you, it will all suddenly be real. You'll look at me differently."

"Merlin, you're sitting behind bars, awaiting your execution. There's nothing more real than that. It's just... gah, I can't understand it. They say you're a sorc- _warlock_ ; and you say you're a warlock, and you're sitting here, waiting for- waiting for the end, and yet I just can't believe it. _They've got proof_ , but I haven't seen it. _You know me_ ; I'm a man of actions- I rely on facts I see not what I'm told, otherwise it's all too easy to be led into deceit, and I have to be strong if I'm to be a good king. I just... haven't seen it with my own eyes."

Merlin remained mute, his mind struggling with the awful conclusions that nagging little voice kept whispering. _So he's just waiting for you to prove your treachery so he can condemn you himself._ That _is what he is saying. He's waiting to see with his own eyes whether you're deserving of your fate._

 __

The boy looked up once more into the face of his Prince. His friend stared back, face filled with concern and worry.

The ghost of a smile flickered over Merlin's face before it turned thoughtful, a familiar comforting expression of the past.

"Plus... I don't give a flying monkey's what you look like- you're the same whinging fool you've always been."

"Okay, alright. I just never thought I'd hear you ask me to do it. I've been hiding it for years, always _trying to make sure nobody sees_... and now you want me to do it right in front of you..." He gave an odd, brief chuckle. "Just feels so weird, you know? Like it's wrong. Years I've been hiding it from you, and now you just want me to just, spill it all out?"

Arthur just sat, patiently waiting, but the boy before him was staring solemnly at the floor again. _Just show me the magic, come on_! Arthur decided it was time for a change of tactics.

"You know what, I don't believe this, any of this. How could _you_ of all people manage to cure fourteen people if you can't even polish my armour on time? Or press my tunics properly-"

"You don't even wear your tunics pressed!" Merlin cries, incredulous, but his eyes were now starting to gleam with familiar laughter.

"Yeah, and that's why! So how am I to believe that you managed to do all this powerful magic if you can't even perform one little trick for me now? Or fetch my breakfast in time."

"What? That's not the point!"

"No? Well I hope you're a better warlock then you are a servant, because I feel cheated. _And_ \- you know what, tell me this;" Arthur continued, scrambling up off the hard floor. "Why am I being made to stand? I'm the prince of Camelot,"

"Dont I know it" Merlin muttered under his breath.

"-and so I command you to make me something to sit on!"

"You can't do that!"

"Merlin, I'm the prince of Camelot, I think you'll find I can."

"Okay then, you try this. I can't do that. I can't just magic some throne out of thin air; that's not how it works!"

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"I've seen other sorcerers do far more complicated things than that."

"Yeah, when they're trying to kill you, you mean? You're too busy ducking for cover to tell!"

"Yeah? Well at least I could tell how _utterly_ amazing their magical powers were. And what about you? If I'm always 'ducking for cover', then what is it that you get up to?"

"I'm the one who stops them!"

Arthur snorted.

Merlin's face went suddenly cold again. "How many man-servants have you regularly taken into battle before me who actually survived?"

The prince stilled, his mouth breaking open to silence.

"How many times have we ridden into battle and been the only few to come back alive. You, with your big shiny armour and pointy swords; whereas I'm completely unarmed most of the time," Merlin said quietly, his blue eyes blazing with something Arthur couldn't identify. "I don't even wear leather armour, and yet we are the only two to return when everyone else has been injured; killed. Over and over again, we are always two of the ones to survive. Sometimes the only two. I've outlived several of your best knights."

Arthur gagged, his stomach suddenly turning cold. The air seemed to grow suffocatingly heavy again, a mixture of sudden guilt and a dawning _'why did I never notice that before_ '. Somewhere, though, he knew he already did. It was preposterous to even think of taking an unarmed servant specifically into battle, yet over the years, it had become second nature to ride in with Merlin beside him. At first, Merlin had only accompanied him on casual journeys or long trips; he'd found his company (whilst often annoying) oddly satisfying, like he craved someone who didn't suck up to him all the time. It was just a consequence of their bad luck that they always ended up in battles all the time. Come to think of it, Arthur always attributed it to their good luck that Merlin survived every time.

Merlin sighed. Arthur still hadn't given an answer; he was now regarding the floor with an alien concentration Merlin never thought he'd ever see. He looked extremely pathetic when hurt, and Merlin kicked himself for putting things so bluntly. But it was true, and it wasn't like he had a lot of time left.

Merlin finally rolled his eyes and waved his hand, the ancient language flowing quietly unrestrained from his lips.

Arthur looked up from his mope, just missing the amber flash of Merlin's eyes. "What did you just call me?"

The servant crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. From further down the dungeon corridor a low rumble began to sound, then the muted voices of a couple of bickering guards.

"... I don't know, the thing just fell over of its own accord."

"Then bloody go and right it then."

"I tried! It just keeps moving out of my reach; can't get the bugger to slow down; it's too heavy."

"So you what- just gonna leave it?"

"Don't see why not. Where's it gonna go? It'll just smash itself to a halt against a wall or a cell door. I don't see any reason to waste energy chasing after it."

"Uh huh. And what if the bloody thing breaks against the bars?"

"Then it'll give the inmates a nice bath. Shit knows they need one."

"Won't argue 'bout that. But it'll come out of your pay."

"Like I can bloody do anything about it now?"

And then from around the corner, right at the end of the dark corridor a large wooden barrel rolled into view, ready to smash against the adjacent wall. But it didn't. As if leaning on some sort of camber, the barrel swiftly turned, cleanly making the corner, and continued travelling towards where the two young men sat at the furthest end. It swayed almost drunkenly as it makes its progression but always managed to avoid hitting each wall. Arthur suddenly leapt to attention as the barrel neared him, but Merlin watched unphased. The barrel neatly swung to a halt before the prince, skipping on its axis as it rightened itself with impossible swagger and waited patiently to be sat upon.

Arthur stared at the barrel intently.

Then he looked back to Merlin, the boy watching him with wide, unsure eyes. But the elder didn't miss the slight smirk hiding behind his lips.

The prince cleared his throat.

"A barrel? That was the best you could do? For your prince? A barrel...?"

It was like the frightened tension just flooded out of Merlin's being, a great unuttering sigh of relief that released itself from his rigid body, the air around them tangibly raising. Arthur grinned swaggeringly as he took his seat.

Merlin began to smile again- a warm, finally honest glow that began to light up his being; a true smile that so belonged on the smaller man—

\-- Before suddenly all the colour drained from his face as the sound of a commotion came echoing from down the corridor.

*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we needed a break from all the hard-core angst, so this chapter's a little lighter than before. I'm afraid it's just one chapter, though. We're back to some very heavy material in chapter seven, - expect major angst, hurt/comfort, and a very disturbing realisation for Arthur.
> 
> (Italicised section at top is edited text from the end of the previous chapter)
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter Six 

_From around the corner, right at the end of the dark corridor a large wooden barrel rolled into view. As if leaning on some sort of camber, it swiftly turned, cleanly making the corner, and continued towards the two young men seated at the furthest end. It neatly swung to a halt before the prince, skipping on its axis as it rightened itself with impossible swagger and waited patiently to be sat upon._

 _Arthur cleared his throat._

 _"A barrel? That was the best you could do? For your prince? A barrel...?"_

 _It was like the frightened tension just flooded out of Merlin's being. Merlin began to smile again- a warm, finally honest glow that began to light up his being; a true smile that so belonged on the smaller man—_

 _\- Before suddenly all the colour drained from his face as the sound of a commotion came echoing from down the corridor._

 

From the end of the corridor, the sound of raised voices continued, until one very recognisable one rang out.

"... I demand to see my ward!"

Gaius strode purposefully around the corner, his physician's satchel clutched to his side as two guards trailed closely behind him.

"We cannot let you see him; he is a dangerous-"

Gaius halted and turned towards the younger man as he narrowly avoided walking in to him.

"He is no more a danger than you are without your friends," he declared, eying the other guard. "May I remind you that as Court Physician, I am required to keep prisoners alive for their set execution. Since that date has now been stayed, I must attend to him before your incompetence sees us both locked within one of your own cells."

It was then that the other man piped up.

"He attacked a guard."

"Don't be ridiculous." Arthur spat out, his voice ringing throughout the dungeon.

"It's true, my Lord. Tuttanus was brining him his meal, and he attacked him"

Incredulous, Arthur turned to Gaius. The physician however had his head down, pondering.

"Hmmm. I heard about that. But I did not see the man afterwards. Why did you not bring him to me?"

The guards were silent for a moment.

"We know where your allegiances lie."

Arthur raised his eyes to high heavens.

"Gaius, you can't seriously believe that _Merlin_ -"

"My lord, given the circumstances, I- I believe it's probably best not to speak of these matters." The old man said softly, glancing at his charge. Merlin had retreated to the back of the cell, his body folded in on itself as far as his binds would allow.

Arthur felt his hand clamp round the old man's arm before he realised what he was doing, bringing him inches from the elder's face.

"Gaius, if he attacked someone, then he can't be-"

The physician wrenched his arm away. "He attacked no one. Don't be so feeble minded to believe the word of an angry guard over that of your trusted servants."

Gaius sighed and turned towards the cell door. He put a hand on one of the bars and pulled slightly, enough to rattle the door against its frame as he turned back to look at the guards, both of whom had backed away. The meaning was clear.

"I can't do that. He's dangerous. He's a sorcerer."

Arthur turned around, giving the man an obnoxious stare.

"Do you not know who I am, guard? If the Court Physician wishes to see his ward, you will let him in. By my command."

The man shuffled his feet. "No one in, no one out. By the King's command."

He turned and hastily retreated back to his post out of sight before the prince could argue further. His partner kept his eyes locked on Arthurs for a moment, before he too left.

Gaius gave an angry huff before turning back towards the cell.

"Come on now, Merlin, I don't have all day. Or are you too going to force me to stand out here?"

Merlin looked up defiantly into his mentor's eyes before raising his hand towards the , Arthur clambered to his feet to commence another tirade at the guards when a heavy clunk rang behind him, signalling the release of the cell door. Arthur's head whipped round to Merlin.

There was no mistaking the flash of amber in his eyes this time. As the door swung open, Arthur was rooted to the spot, his mouth handing open slightly.

Gaius cleared his throat and nodded towards the barrel the Prince had just vacated outside.

"I hope you don't expect me to sit on the floor. I'm an old man; give me something to sit on, thank you."

The order was seemingly directed at all four of them, though both guards had already fled. Arthur looked at Gaius incredulously. Merlin just looked... bored. Without the slightest movement from anyone, the barrel toppled over once more and began to roll languidly towards the cell door, which opened itself widely to accommodate its girth. Gaius followed the barrel into the cell, and Arthur darted after, looking very uncertain of situations. The door swung shut and locked behind them.

The prince turned to look at the door of their maximum security cell, then back at the seemingly innocuous boy sitting small before him.

"If you could leave any time you wanted, why are you still here? Why haven't you fled?" He asked in a low voice.

Merlin was quiet for a moment, Gaius digging in his bag behind them and placing various jars on the uneven ground.

"I wouldn't be able to get beyond the door. The guards know me; everyone knows me. I can't get out of here without attracting attention, and when that happens, I'm not- I will not hurt anybody."

Merlin was sounding as timid as he'd ever been, but it felt to Arthur as if he was side stepping some issue. That he was giving only a half truth, that something other than harming; _killing_ other people had kept him within the cell. And then Arthur remembered something else.

"Then what about that guard?"

Merlin's eyes blazed with fear for a moment before he tilted his head down, seemingly deflating again earning a _humph_ and small swat on the arm by Gaius who was fiddling with the rope binding his hands.

"I didn't realise he was only carrying food. I thought- well, he came in here and I just, panicked. I-"

"Merlin, hush," Gaius murmured quietly. Merlin bowed his head again, but Arthur heard the soft addition.

"Sometimes magic just reacts instinctively."

The old physician issued a loud sigh and turned his heavy gaze back to the prince, pinning him into silence. A slight lump erupted in Arthur's throat. The words which eventually came from Gaius's mouth surprised him;

"May I please borrow your knife?"

Arthur was taken aback.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please give me your knife. Come on, chop chop."

Arthur was speechless- and rapidly growing red.

"Why?"

The physician gave Arthur a withering look. "So I can untie him." He took Merlin's bound hands in his own and turning them over carefully. "Your guards have been over zealous in restraining him." Arthur felt a twinge of concern, yet still did not move.

"The binds are for a reason, Gaius. I can't just take them off him."

Gaius turned to give the young prince a cold stare.

"And why is that, sire? Do you prefer to see your friend suffer, to let him spend what could possibly his very last night in pain?" The old physician let down the boy's wrists and turned towards Arthur.

"Merlin can undo these cords himself if he so wanted to. He won't because he's too much of a martyr to do that. Sorry, Merlin, but it's true. And you are right; if he wanted, he could walk out of here with hardly any resistance, sire. So you might as well just give me the knife and just _stop arguing._ "

Arthur folded his arms.

"I think, if by knife you're referring to my sword, Gaius, then as you can see I don't have any weapons on me.

Gaius leaned back and crossed his arms, regarding the older boy with a single raised eyebrow.

"Dont play coy with me, sire. I have been your physician since before you were born, you know I don't mean the sword. Sword, really... Ankle. Now."

Arthur sighed dramatically, and leaned forward to remove a fine, plain blade from the inside of his right boot. He held it out, handle first.

"I'll have you know, it's called a 'dagger'."

"Whatever," the physician muttered as he took it from him. Cutting through Merlin's binds, Gaius locked eyes with the younger man.

"When he was twelve, it used to be a knife." Merlin stared, intrigued. Gaius leaned in. "I don't believe he was officially given that dagger until he was sixteen, though he had been commandeering it for over a year before. I remember when he was but, hmmm, I believe he was twelve years old, just after the annual jousting tournament." Gaius chuckled. "Arthur here had a little accident. Fell out of a tree, if I recall correctly."

"I didn't fall-"

"Pah. The bow broke, I suppose." Gaius said loudly. Shaking his head, he turned back to Merlin. "Anyway, he was rushed to me, and I became amazed to realise that the only real damage was to his leg, which was bleeding quite profusely. Ruined one of my robes if I remember correctly. I removed his boot to find, quite inexplicably, _this_ shoved down his stocking, which had sliced into him quite deeply during his brief rendezvous with the ground. Ever since, he has been scarcely any more careful, as evidenced by the vast array of scars on his ankle. Have you never noticed, Merlin, I'm sure in all those numerous times you've had to dress him?"

Arthur groaned, scratching his blond hair.

Merlin looked between the two men, suddenly brightened up. "So that explains why all your right boots get torn to shreds on the insides. Ha, I knew it wasn't my fault!"

Arthur continued to glare.

"Okay, shutting up now."

"Much appreciated."

"Right. Hmm, still..."

"Merlin..."

"Right, alright!"

~*~*~


	7. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, this is very nearly the end of this section. I will continue writing, but please be patient with me, because I will be writing everything from scratch based on my plot notes- I have no more early drafts left.  
> Thanks also to my old beta, Speedy Speck, who came through and did a wonderful beta right at the last moment. You really are amazing!  
> Also, it will be a while before the next instalment is live. I will be participating for the very first time in this year’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), where I’ll be aiming to write a 50,000 word novel in just 30 days! As you can now see, I’ll be a little busy this coming November. Wish me luck!

~*~*~

 _Arthur continued to glare._

 _"Okay, shutting up now."_

 _"Much appreciated."_

 _"Right. Hmm, still..."_

 _"Merlin..."_

 _"Right, alright!"_

~*~

Gaius carefully placed a capped jug down beside the bowl before glancing back at the two boys. They looked as they should have been, as they always had. Their gleaming faces were a refreshing echo of the past that Gaius was hesitant to disrupt, but he knew that he must.

He cleared his throat and the two boys turned to look at him, and like that the spell was broken. The easy smile faded from Merlin’s face as his eyes scanned over the assembled pots and back to Gaius’s weary form, a slight crease folding in the boy’s forehead as he fought to hide the panic from his eyes. Beside him, Arthur continued smiling, oblivious.

Sighing softly, Gaius reached out towards the blackened cloth covering Merlin’s torso.

“I need you to remove this now.”

Alarm flooded Merlin’s face as he glanced apprehensively between Arthur and the physician.

“Can’t we do this later?”

“No, Merlin, we cannot,” Gaius huffed. “It was enough trouble getting down here to tend to you now; I highly doubt whether they will let me past a second time.”

Merlin fidgeted, but made no move to shed the cloth. Arthur watched with a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Merlin threw one final half-exasperated, half-panicked stage whisper at Gaius.

“Do I really have to-”

“Merlin, I cannot tend to you if you do not remove the tunic. I cannot mend flesh through a filthy barrier.” He snapped.

Obstinately, the boy fixed Gaius with a long loaded stare.

The old physician sighed and turned his attention toward the prince.

“Sire, if you could possibly ... turn around, please.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he regarded Gaius, before turning his pointed gaze towards his manservant.

Merlin squirmed for a moment, before meeting his with a determined gaze of his own, eyes wide and petulant.

A sudden thought struck Arthur and he chuckled incredulously.

“You’re shy! Oh- ho, come on, Merlin, three years of dressing me, camping with me and you’re scared to show a bit of flesh? Come on, I’ve seen your lanky form before; he’s not asking you to strip completely. Stop being such a girl, Merlin!”

Merlin looked like he had been slapped in the face with a wet fish. Mouth hanging open, he gawped at the prince, though his body went rigid. Gaius sighed and regarded Arthur wearily.

“If you could just... turn around, Sire, please. Merlin has his reasons.”

Arthur looked as if he were about to argue again, but then he caught sight of Merlin. His haze had levelled on the floor, shoulders set rigidly as he softly bit on the inside of his cheek.

Arthur turned around.

Gaius breathed a ‘thank you’. Merlin remained silent.

There was a brush of fabric, then the unusually heavy slap of the tunic hitting the floor. Merlin gasped a little, presumably the first time being able to stretch his muscles for several days.

A splatter of water sounded, first a trickle onto the floor accompanied by the friction of fingers, then the smooth whoosh of it filling up the wooden basin.  Arthur suddenly wished he’d relieved himself before running down to the dungeons.

There was a soft pad of the washcloth submerging in the water, then the unmistakable half-gasp of his manservant as the cloths were applied to skin.

Merlin tried to hush himself, but every now and again he couldn’t help the slight hitch in his breath or gasp of pain.

Arthur shook his head. He knew the jailors weren’t very friendly, it wasn’t right for them to get too close to the prisoners, but if Merlin was gasping and whelping over a few simple bruises, then Arthur wondered just how he had survived as his manservant for so long.

The trickle of dribbling water continued.  As did the squeak and gurgle of Merlin silencing himself.

After a minute of rocking on his feet, his back to the others like a naughty schoolboy, Arthur slowly peered back round at them, a smug smile plastered over his lips.

Merlin looked as if he’d been caught with his trousers down. The look of petrified shock and embarrassment quickly dissolved into a flash of anger, before Gaius’s eyes snapped to Arthur’s own.

“Sire, please.”

With another huff, Arthur turned his back again.

He spied the filthy tunic that Merlin had removed just by his feet, and with a disgusted sneer, hooked the toe of his boot round it and kicked it out a little way in front of him.

There came another quick gasp and whimper from Merlin.

“Oh, my God, Merlin, you are such a...”

 _Wimp._

Arthur trailed off as he caught sight of the fabric he had just kicked over. The material had unfolded itself, revealing its underside. Perplexed, he picked up the discarded shirt off the floor and held it up.

The front had held a sickening mixture of greys and browns of various hues, however the back panel was blackened in predominantly one colour, painted across the large expanse in vivid, blending stripes. Red. A blackened, blood red.

Cold terror seized Arthur’s chest. This couldn’t be right; it wasn’t possible, this couldn’t be happening. For a moment, Arthur started doubting his senses.

Turning, the prince focused upon the wooden basin Gaius was washing him from, catching sight of the water as it drained back into the bowel. Heavily tinted in the same dark colour. His eyes met Gaius’s one more time, a solemn understanding passed behind the old man’s gaze. He inclined his head fractionally from behind Merlin’s shoulder - a nod.

Cold, incomprehensible realisation rooted Arthur to the floor. He realised that Merlin was looking straight at him again; his white horrified gaze steadied on his own as Arthur stared back, paralysed to look away.

Gaius silently dipped the bloody rag into the reddened water and returned it to Merlin’s back.

“I don’t understand, what...?” Arthur whispered.

“Please...dont-” the boy uttered, his throat tight. _Please don’t._

Arthur moved. It only took three strides till he was standing behind Merlin; the sight before him made him sicken.

Merlin’s back had been torn open. By a whip. Arthur had seen those wounds before- to varying degrees- but that was very rare. And never like this. Never to this extent.

Arthur felt his throat choke, constricting tight and strangling the remaining air from his lungs. His head spun. _This was not possible._ His world had already tipped itself on its head once already today, but suddenly he felt as if the ground was well and truly gone from under his feet.

The punishment had been deemed rather archaic and was seldom used any more. Arthur couldn’t fathom why his father would resurrect it- for _Merlin_.

 “Gaius, what is this? Why did they...?”

Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes from the wounds on Merlin’s back. Though he addressed Gaius, his vision didn’t waver.

The old physician placed a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder as the boy’s head dipped yet again. He raised the cloth to another stripe of congealed blood, gently removing the dirt and cleaning the wound.

“Uther deemed it ... appropriate, that Merlin’s punishment be fitting for his transgressions.”

“His tr— The sentence for sorcery is death, _only_ death,” Arthur demanded, his voice getting progressively louder. “The means may be altered, but it is never _supplemented_ with additional punishments! How could he have...?”

Gaius closed his eyes. “He deemed the crime was far more personal than simple witchcraft.”

“Personal?” Arthur questioned in a whisper. Merlin flinched as Gaius began washing another weld.

“Merlin is your personal servant, Arthur. You’ve known him for over three years; outside the knights he is your closest acquaintance, and as such, his position grants him close personal access to you, and to Uther too. Your father is scared.”

“Cowardice does not make it excusable to rip the flesh from another man’s back,” Arthur retorted darkly. Merlin’s bleeding form trembled a little.

“Scared for you, Arthur.”Gaius retorted, his voice raising for the first time. “Do not be a fool and think that you are the only one who cares. It was his love for you that made him do this; his love that forced him to act.”

“But you just let him-”

“I didn’t let them do anything! I tried appealing to your father but he refused my council. I begged him to listen, but he forbade me from even tending to Merlin, I shouldn’t be here now. I have always been loyal to Uther, but no, I do not agree with his decisions on this occasion. Not in the slightest.” Gaius finally breathed. With a great sigh, he picked up the wash cloth again. There was silence for several more minutes.

“Uther’s also alive.” Merlin finally replied.

Merlin turned to look Arthur in the eye. His face was red and wet, but darkened with defiance. Gaius continued tentatively.

“Your father is probably also disturbed by the fact that-”

“I used magic on him. To save his life.”

Arthur took a step towards the front of Merlin so he could look him in the eye.

“You what?”

“He was dying. It was the last option, I had to do it.”

“You performed magic on him?” Arthur repeated, his face deadly serious. It was like he had forgotten everything about starting to feel comfortable with this new situation of Merlin having magic, when it applied to it actually being used. On his father, nonetheless.

“Arthur, your father was dying. Camelot would have fallen if he’d perished.”

The prince seemed to take that into consideration for a few moments, before his face softened again. And then Merlin added,

“Besides, I’ve used magic on you plenty of times. You’ve never complained.”

With a great sigh of defeat, Gaius plunged the washcloth into the bowel and raised his hands in surrender.

*~*~*


	8. Important Authors Note (and Deleted exert)

By the Fires of Camelot (Part One)- Authors Note

Hello everyone, and I am really sorry to disappoint people hoping for a new chapter, but I feel that there are some things which I really need to say, **because the story is beginning to dwindle, and is losing readers.** So please, forgive the AN interruption, and please do read. I am trying to save this thing.

I have been working on drafts of Fires 8 this December, and over the course of this, things have been brought to light.

1- The dungeon scenes have begun to drag its heels, especially since the entrance of Gaius, and **so I have decided to move the story along.** I'm advancing it forward; I believe all that needs to be said has already been covered, so I really need to move on from this position. I have therefore cut the continuation of the previous scene, which actually serves no use. I have in excess of two thousand words worth of material which is now redundant.

2- At some point, chapter six will be altered, to make Gaius's verbal interactions with Arthur a lot more realistic. As it has been pointed out, the interactions that I had written were too friendly, more how Merlin and Arthur, or Gaius and Merlin would interact, and having reread the story, I feel that this awkward characterisation sticks out like a sore thumb. This will probably happen after the conclusion of Fires-Part One.

3- **By the Fires of Camelot- Part One, will have a total of ten chapters.** I am currently typing up chapter eight, which should be with you by around the new year- shortly. All of 'Part One' will eventually be posted.

4- **The sequel, Fires of Camelot- Part Two, will follow immediately after.** This has been mapped out even more finely then 'Part One', so though I can't promise its eventual completion, you can be assured that there is one hell of a story waiting in its entirety.

  


* * *

  


  


~*~

 **This material is in its draft state, and is part of the _original_ chapter 8. This material will _not_ be covered in the Chapter 8 which will be uploaded at around the First of January.**

 _"Besides, I've used magic on you plenty of times. You've never complained."_

 _With a great sigh of defeat, Gaius plunged the washcloth into the bowel and raised his hands in surrender._

"I'm sure that Merlin was only joking with you, Sire. I am sure he would never cast magic actually on you; I could hardly see how he'd be able to keep it from you for so long if he'd had." Gaius rebutted with a raised eyebrow, sounding both mildly apologetic and slightly concerned.

Merlin stifled a groan as the physician brought the washcloth back out of the water and ran it over another sore, effectively silencing him.

Arthur, meanwhile, was still speechless, abandoned words hanging off his open mouth as his brain fought to process exaggeration from snarky comment from random humour. He had fancied himself rather adept at this task after three years of knowing Merlin, but with everything that was going on, it just turned everything on his head. He no longer had any notion of what was accurate, or what was even possible. If Merlin had told him he could breathe fire, or pass through impenetrable walls as easily as stepping through a doorway, Arthur would have no idea just what was exaggeration or what was even possible.

His whole life, he had _known_ that magic was evil, it was a simple plain _fact_ that he had grown up with. No matter how guilty parties had emphatically tried to convince him otherwise, it was just a simple truth of life. Magic had killed his mother, magic had nearly destroyed the kingdom. Magic was evil; nothing could come of it but deceit, corruption and death.

The notion [of Merlin having magic] was still as ridiculous as when Arthur had first rode into Camelot that [afternoon/evening] and had witnessed Merlin tied to the pyre.

But Merlin had been using it around him for over three years. And Arthur had survived. And yes, by now, he had made his mind up- he trusted Merlin; he always had, there was no reason to change that view now. But he was a magic user. But he trusted him. Merlin had used magic on him...?

"Well, _argh!_ I haven't really cast magic _on_ you most of the time. But I've used it around you a hell of a lot. I'm amazed you've never noticed. And, er- ARGH! Yes, aiming towards and very relieved that you have not until now. Gaius, do you really have to-"

"Yes, Merlin."

"... Really? So hard?"

Arthur suddenly reached forward, and clamped his hand over Gaius's, halting the progression of the washcloth.

"You're serious; you've used magic on and around me? And I've never noticed? Was that... I don't know, something you did on purpose, to keep me from noticing, keep me dulled, in the dark?"

"Sire, I don't think Merlin would ever cast that sort of spell on you, he doesn't even know how..."

"Gaius, will you stop answering for him. I did not ask you; I want him to tell me."

Merlin's eyes had been fixed on Arthur's, though he had remained silent. Now, he opened his mouth to respond.

"I have never done anything like that on you. Anything that I had to do on you was normally because you've already had someone else put their own spell on you. Do you know how many times I've had to step in because

-end of draft-

 **New material to come in the next couple of weeks.**


	9. Chapter 8: The Cook, the Knight, & the Innkeeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> I really would like to thank the new readers and reviewers who have started following this story. I honestly and truly appreciate it, and I am so pleased that you are enjoying this. Thank you also Steffi Hoffman for your amazing long review. There isn't much I love more than opening my inbox to find such a nice lengthy email, so really thank you. I'm sorry that I don't have time to do personalised messages to all of my reviewers at the moment, but I honestly really appreciate and love ALL OF YOU for keeping me going.
> 
> I have some more important authors announcements to make, so please, do read them at the end of the chapter. Bur for now, please, enjoy!

~*~*~

"In what distant land am I being escorted from my own dungeons by my own guards!" cried Arthur as the two burley men walked them forwards.

Gaius gave a low 'hurrumph'.

"One in which your father is determined to prove his authority."

"But he is King."

"Sire, if I may? Magic has always been a threat to him. He has always needed to look stronger over it, and now that threat has once again been directly applied to him, he needs to re-assert his authority."

"Gaius, my father is the ruler of all Camelot. He has dealt with the threat of magic for the last twenty years; he does not suddenly have a need to look stronger in the face of it; that is ridiculous.

Gaius said nothing, simply grunting softly as one of the accompanying guards hurried them on too shook his shoulder free of the guard's hand, pausing momentarily to give the much younger man a cold stare. The young man looked over at his superior, standing not even two feet away from the prince, and shrugged.

They walked in silence for several more minutes. As they walked, things continued collating within Arthur's mind, and out of the blue, one simple, blindingly obvious fact became blazingly clear within the prince's mind.

"How long have you known about Merlin?"

"Sire?"

"You heard me. How long have you known about Merlin's magic?"

Gaius's head bowed as they walked in silence for a few paces more, the physician carefully formulating his answer.

"I have known since he first walked through my door."

Gaius stopped to look Arthur in the eye for several seconds before the guards hurried them on again.

"He came bounding into my chambers that first morning having arrived in Camelot, note from his mother and begrudging work ethic in hand. She had told him to seek me out. Hunith hadn't informed him about Camelot's strict laws in regard to magic, but he knew not to go using magic in front of people; he knew to keep his magic discrete."

Gaius sighed.

"I had been standing on an old balcony which had scaled the upper side of my west wall. I believe I just turned to greet him when he came in, and that was when the banister broke.

"I found myself falling, and then I wasn't. I landed on my bed, which only seconds previously had been sitting on the other side of my room. It felt as if time itself had slowed to accommodate it."

Gaius looked Arthur squarely in the eye.

" _I_ may be an old man, but a fall like that could easily paralyse or kill any fit person landing in that position. And if I had survived, I'd have had to wait possibly hours for help, which for a man of my age... well..." He gave another colossus sigh.

"Merlin saved my life the moment he walked into my chambers. A perfect stranger. It was just instinctual for him to do it. And then he tried denying everything that had just happened! Adamantly refused that none of it had happened, though there could have been no other explanation. I do not need to be a good judge of character to know that he was just... good, through and through. That boy is incapable of acting maliciously. Yes, I did not report him, but he wasn't a threat. In fact, he used his magic that very night to save your life, and I am led to believe that the two of you did not get along at the very beginning. Of course, Uther did not know the act involved magic, but he recognised Merlin's commitment and worth. It was an act which led to his being assigned as your manservant if I'm not mistaken, something which neither of you were very pleased about, initially. I believed it counter-intuitive to report him after that."

Arthur continued walking in silence, his head bowed. And then he turned to meet Gaius's gaze and nodded, once. Gaius let out a long stream of air he had not realised he had been holding.

They walked in silence through the underground corridors for several minutes more, before Gaius sought his chance at the next guards post and made a bee-line towards the arrangement of crude seats around another barrel. He lowered himself into the seat slowly, an expression of absolute relief washing over his face. The guards bristled.

"As I keep reminding you two, I am an old man. You can't keep hurrying me along at this pace, I need to rest."

Arthur ducked his head and 'd known the 'old man' long enough to know _exactly_ how mobile the physician was- and there was no point employing a poorly-abled court physician in a court of this size. Gaius simply had a grudge against being ordered about by anyone other then Arthur and the King himself.

"We really cannot afford to wait. My instructions are clear; you must be cleared from the dungeon immediately."

Gaius turned to raise a mockingly bemused raised eyebrow at Arthur, his chins resting playfully on his neck as he settled himself deeper into the seat. The prince strode forwards and obstinately took a seat beside the physician.

"And exactly why are we being hurried along? Exactly where does it say in the rules that visitors- your prince at that, are to be hurried out of the dungeons as soon as possible after their cut-short visits? I don't recall any such instruction, and I should know- I was the one who reviewed and wrote those rules."

The younger of the two guards gave an exasperated sigh and started miming an instruction to urge them forward. His partner stared at Arthur and Gaius stoically before shutting the other up with an intelligent response.

"We have another prisoner about to be brought down. It was decided that, given the current events, it was best not to have free-men; especially those possibly favourable towards the sorcerer, hanging around the dungeons whilst they were being brought in. Now please, lets continue moving before I am the next one imprisoned- for insubordination."

Arthur huffed in frustration, however Gaius rose to his feet.

"And what exactly is the danger that we, as Merlin's friends possess during the transfer of prisoners?"

Neither man would answer. They simply turned and continued leading Arthur and Gaius in silence.

The silence was soon broken by a baritone hollering that resonated through the corridor, preceding its owner's entrance by a good full minute.

"Twenty seven years of faithful service and he throws me in here without the slightest hesitation. Twenty seven years I tell you! Not a soufflé overdone or a dry roast! You know, why don't you just execute me too, it seems to be the new law now for treating your faithful court servants. Twenty seven years, not a meal undercooked or below the high standards I demand, and this is how I'm treated!"

Not quite as carrying as the booming baritone voice, a weedy 'shut up' preceded the continued deep wallowing of the first voice.

Arthur felt the guard beside him close in as the one to Gaius's right did the same. To his surprise, Gaius's face had widened into a great gleaming smile.

An entourage of four people came into view, two guards and for some inexplicable reason Sir Leon, all doing their best to surround and escort a ginormous woman, the sheer size of her declaring her profession even louder then she did with her own words. Arthur may not be taking regular trips down to the kitchens any more since getting caught by his minder that one time as a small child, but he still recognised the court cook when he saw her. Well, any fool could tell by the sheer size of her she was the court cook, producing (and tasting) the very finest foods in the kingdom. Other than that, he knew nothing else about the woman. Not that it astounded Arthur just how little he knew about the royal running of the castle. There had never been reason to take interest in the affairs of the servants, other than trying to drown out the inane gossip that came tumbling out of Merlin's mouth in the morning before Arthur was conscious enough to tell him to shut up. Matters of the court were always far more important and time consuming then matters of the staff.

"My dear Margret, how lovely to see you back to full health." Gaius announced. All four guards collectively seemed to draw in an anxious breath, each closing in towards their respective detainees as one. Sir Leon was left standing back a little, scratching at his neck with an uncomfortable air. The woman's eyes snapped to the physician and on began her tirade.

"Yes, back to full health, thank-you-very-much-Gaius, but I doubt I shall remain that way for long if King Uther has his way. That boy uses magic to save all of our lives, and now we are all tainted. You mark my words, Gaius, the king will find an excuse to be rid of every one of us before the month is out. Doesn't matter how much faithful service you've given him or how 'irreplaceable' you may believe yourself to be, even you, Sir Leon, those of us who were brought back from the brink of death by that boy King Uther will find an excuse to execute."

Leon didn't say anything. He stared her in the eye, his sombre face lack of usual determination or mirth.

Arthur crossed his arms.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your majesty-"

"Margret is the court cook. Both she and Sir Leon were taken ill on the second day of the sickness, and were among the first to be healed by Merlin. Though I can't begin to imagine why-"

Arthurs face flooded with anger as he rounded on the plump woman.

"As much as he dislikes magic, my father would never punish somebody just because they had magic used on them. My father would never hunt down or imprison somebody for being the victim of magic. They are just the recipient, the victims, they have no reason to wish it on them; you get nothing but harm out of magic, why would-"

"We're alive! Is that not reason enough to wish it?" The cook cried. "Without that boy, the better part of Camelot would be lying in our graves! Camelot would cease to function! If that isn't incentive to wish for the use of that magic on us, then I don't know what is. _Your father_ believes we had something to do with the illness, or that we sought out the magic to save ourselves."

Arthur was silent.

"My father does not punish those who have simply been the recipients of magic, no matter what the magic did for them. He has never hunted down the victims of magic; no one would ever report its usage if there was any threat that they themselves would be accused of it's use or had commissioned it themselves. He may be bitter towards it, but he would never do this purely on the basis that you had magic used on you. So there must have been something else to warrant your arrest? Because I know the laws of this land, and I know my father- to be arrested, you must have done something more then just _survive_."

The cook was finally silenced, a look of self-disgrace momentarily crossing her face.

"I served up a poor meal."

From behind, Sir Leon muffled a laugh. The cook remained stoic.

"I served a raw stake. To the King. To just to the King"

"Raw?" Arthur looked astounded.

"Very raw."

"It was still bleeding," Leon informed, his face cracking wide, "Quite possibly still bleating if it still had its head attached."

Arthur looked away wide-eyed; Gaius began chuckling throatily.

The guards began pushing the woman onwards. The mirth seemed to drop instantaneously from the trio as the hollow yells began sounding again even as she was pushed out of sight.

" _That man is going to kill the boy who saved his own live; he already has blood on his hands; he should be used to it! Twenty seven years of faithful service- see how he treats us? Completely expendable! I don't care if it was magic or no... Gaius's boy saved our lives; you can't just do that, put him to death! He does not deserve- urgh, get off; EVERYONE thinks so! The entire court and lower village all say the same thing- the boy should not die! Get off me! This is injustice! He saved our lives!"_

Her wailing voice continued to be heard several minutes after she had been dragged out of their presence, her words echoing down the corridors after her.

Sir Leon looked to the prince with a heavy gaze.

"We had better get going, Arthur. We cannot do anything about this down here; we are just wasting valuable time. The King announced to the court just now that he means to follow through with the execution an hour after sundown tomorrow; if there is anything to be done, we must do it now. This is the only time we can talk to the King, we must go now."

Arthur and Gaius rose from the stools. The two guards came forwards once more and Arthur let out another exasperated sigh. Leon came to his rescue.

"You two might as well be on your way. The 'threat' is gone, I can escort _my prince_ out of here; I believe we know the way well enough."

The men nodded and practically fled. Arthur looked at their retreating backs in astonishment.

"How on earth did you manage to do that? I'm the crowned bloody prince of Camelot, do you know how many times I had to threaten them with executions and banishment, and _you_ get rid of them like _that?_ " He shook his head, before returning sombre again as the three men continued walking.

"If what you say is true, and the people are not in support of Merlin's- of what is scheduled to happen, then we may be able to do something with this. If the public are likely to turn against the king because of this then that could generate a re-verdict that even my father would not overturn- prejudices or no. If we could collect all the people who were cured by Merlin and present them to my father tonight, then we could-"

"Not tonight, sire, we've spent too much time down here; it must be already well past nine. The king would never entertain an audience at this hour."

"Tomorrow then!"

Leon shook his head "But that would not give us enough time to gather the cured and figure out a argument before we present it. To approach him just hours before the execution... He won't even entertain us."

"No..." Gaius shook his head, his face illuminating as if a match had been struck behind it. "We may not be able to approach the king tonight, but the common people... If everyone really is as against the execution as the cook claimed," Leon nodded, "then they hopefully will not object to being approached this late at night. We might be able to mount a strong enough argument to make Uther see sense, but that's only if we meet through the night."

The trio passed into the castle's main corridors, giving the guards posted at the dungeon entrance not the slightest attention as they passed through.

"I had better go and gather the people from the lower town; Sir Leon, you are probably best positioned to approach the members of the court whom I treated."

Leon nodded. "We should gather somewhere large enough for us all, somewhere where the people from the lower village can access easily enough."

"The courtyard? The platform set up there will give us a good stage from which to conduct the meeting from."

Leon shook his head. "Too many people passing through the citadel gates might arouse the suspicions of the palace guards- they could think we're gathering to attack."

"I know," Arthur said with sudden mirth, "The tavern! Merlin's favourite place to spend time when he should be attending to me. Seems only fitting... I'm sure the innkeeper will not object to the extra custom- we'll need sustenance if we're to go at this all night."

Gaius looked hopeful. "That may work. The innkeeper was among those targeted by the illness, he has as much cause as the others to won't mind opening up late, especially if he gets some more business out of it. I'll find the other people from the village; meet you there in one hour?"

Leon nodded, and Gaius moved off, his bulking form soon retreating down the open corridor.

Arthur looked to Leon, searching his eyes.

"Why are you so determined to help Merlin? I mean; forget about a debt for saving your life, what is there?"

Leon shook his head. "But I do owe him my life, and many times over. I don't care whether it was magic or not, but he is your friend; my friend even, and we have always trusted him. Your father plans to execute him tomorrow, he's told you about his magic, and yet _you_ are trying your best to save him when you know all of the facts. He's our friend; in the last three years he has never done anything to deserve this."

Arthur nodded.

"And I have never known him to use magic to anyone's disadvantage other than our enemies."

Arthur froze.

"Am I actually the only person not to know that my _manservant_ is a practicing sorcerer, in a kingdom that despises magic?"

"I never knew outright, but I suspected. We've always been too successful, even as the best trained in Camelot. Merlin's been helping us. He's saved our lives many times on patrol and in battles, I couldn't call him up on it."

Arthur just stared.

"I've trusted him. You've trusted him, always, Arthur. And that's good enough for me. I've never actually specifically seem him use magic, but I know that he uses it to _your_ advantage. And that's all I need to know. That is why I don't want to see him die."

"Then we had better make sure he doesn't."

~*~*~

I know I haven't been the most regular in posting chapters, and I do apologise.

I was wondering what you readers thought about me using my twitter account (sapphirenight9) for posting updates? It might be very regular (see below), 'chapter 9 fully written!', 'On to Fires Part 2', etc. What do you think? You can add me anyway, if you wish!

I really want to make this story work, so after the success of my novel-writing for NaNoWriMo in November, I've decided to adopt a similar writing strategy in **January** **for my fanfictions**. This involves very strict writing targets (2000-2500 words per day) and very rough material; and I will generate the majority of coming material of both my active fanfics in this time (the other one, being real-person fiction, is not hosted on ). **I could produce as many as nine new chapters for both fanfics in the space of that one dedicated month.**

As I will be busy writing, I will not have time to edit and refine the material as I go- which is how I generally produce and finish material. **This means that I will not be uploading during January, and the first couple of months of February** will be dedicated to getting the first of the new chapters up to scratch to upload for you.

Therefore, after this chapter, expect chapter 9 around the second week of February, and the epilogue chapter (ten) sometime shortly after. The sequel story (entitled 'Part Two') will continue being uploaded at the same new 2012 rate.


	10. 9: In the Chambers of the King

Okay, thank you so much my readers for being patient with me through my January writing binge. I am very happy to announce that during this time, I have not only completed the material for this story, Fires Part One, but have already written half of it’s sequel- the unimaginatively named ‘Fires Part Two’. Please, feel free to suggest a good sequel title!

Also, if you are a Twitter fan, I have been posting brief progress updates and stuff there. You can follow me @sapphirenight9, and I’m not a regular tweeter, so you shouldn’t have too much random stuff entering your feed. You’ll recognise my avatar- I use the same one everywhere, so you’ll know its me!

*~*~*

When Arthur knocked and let himself into his father’s chamber the following morning, Uther was humming cheerily, sat at his breakfast desk with the mountain of food that Arthur could never quite train Merlin to produce for himself. The king gave his son a cheery ‘morning’ as he popped another grape into his open mouth.

“Mmm- Arthur! Come in, come in! I have a very good feeling about today. Look, we finally have the sun back after such a dreary winter; it’s a good omen, I know!”

Arthur just muttered a ‘yes, it seems so’ to the ground, the frown still firmly planted across his face. Uther himself frowned momentarily, his jaw hesitating out of alignment as he paused in the rolling his royal breakfast around his mouth. He tilted his head in his equivalent of a shrug, not quite accepting of his son’s level mood.

“Oh, come, Arthur. We’ve been stuck in this most appalling winter, you might as well show a bit of cheer.”

When Arthur seemed unable to answer him, Uther turned and returned his attention back towards his breakfasting table. He chose another plateau from his table and manoeuvred it delicately into his mouth, chewing slowly as he looked at Arthur casually out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, I’m surprised at you, I would have thought you’d be relishing this day. Finally seeing your former manservant getting punished for his treachery. The boy has been lying to you for three years, it’s about time he is removed. To think about the damage he could have potentially done… We are lucky he hasn’t brought the kingdom to ruin after the amount of time he’s served here. Thank goodness he seems to be as inept a sorcerer as he is everything else. Oh, come on, Arthur, you can’t really not be excited to watch him burn. Or, is it that- you’re still embarrassed that he’d managed to deceived you for so long. Son, ineptitude aside, no one noticed after three years of close company that he wasn’t who he claimed; it is not only yourself who feel a slight amount of shame for letting him continue for this long unnoticed. You can let all that out of your system as you watch him burn tonight. I find that fire has a most hypnotic quality for allowing one to think with complete and absolute clarity. You will find yourself feeling better after today.”

Encouraging heart-to-heart over, Uther turned back to his food shovelling another handful into his mouth. He missed the abrupt change of his son’s expression.

“You know, I’m really looking forward to this. We haven’t had a good burning for at least a good year. It’s always so invigorating to see justice being carried out where it’s deserved.”

Arthur didn’t return a reply.

 

After a few seconds of silence during which the air between them had only barely cooled, Arthur finally announced loudly, 

“Sir Leon, if you wouldn’t mind…”

Uther looked up in confusion as his chamber door opened once more, and the knight slipped into the room to stand beside it. And then more people continued walking through the door, hesitantly moving to line up along the farthest side of the King’s quarters. The slab of jellied meat he had pilled into his mouth stayed frozen at Uther’s lips as his eyes tracked the people who shuffled past- men, members from his court, strangers from the lower village, women, all in his room. People that ought not to have been there, that had no right to have been there.

These were the king’s private chambers. And, whilst he was breakfasting.

Uther carefully placed down the cloth with which he had patted his mouth dry and took a long, cold hard look over the assembled men. There were a few nervous glances at each other- non of them looked very comfortable to be there. He then turned his gaze to Arthur. Fixed him with a cold glare.

“Get out.”

Voice deathly cool, the intruders jumped and scrambled towards the chamber door. His gaze never wavering from the prince, it was nevertheless unequivocal who the order was directed towards.

Uther’s gaze remained focused on his son as the final men and women fled out the door from which they came. The king was deathly still, calm in his rage. Within just a few seconds Arther was left standing motionless once again with his father, the mood now very much darkened.

When Uther finally spoke, his voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper though it carried unequivocally through the room.

“What do you think you are doing, bringing common people in here?”

“I was just trying to-”

“I asked what you were doing!” Uther thundered. “Bringing men into my room- courtiers, people from the lower village, into my private quarters! In what insane world did all reason fly straight out the window. And I was in such a good mood earlier…”

Uther shook his head.

“Father, I was trying to bring to your attention a matter that needs to be addressed now. This is serious; I was trying to get your attention.”

Uther set his jaw.

“Well, I can safely say that you have it. And am I to assume, judging by the fact that those people were the same that I shared my infirmity with, this is still about the boy?”

Arthur nodded.

“Then I do not see why this can not wait till tomorrow. After all the mess has been dealt with and we can settle back into some sort of normalcy.”

“I am afraid that will not work, father. By the time the mess has been dealt with, my manservant-”

“Ex-manservant-”

“…will be dead.”

“No, Arthur, a dangerous sorcerer who has integrated himself within the highest circle of our court will have finally been punished.”

Arthur froze. This wasn’t doing anything, this wouldn’t get him anywhere.

After a moment’s silence, Arthur continued quietly,

“Be that as it may, I would still like to hold an audience with you about him before he is put to death. I have still not heard the full story; You owe me that much, at least.”

Uther was silent. He regarded Arthur for a few moments, popping another grape into his mouth and nodded.

“You shall have your audience. In the Throne Room, in an hour after I am done with my morning evolutions. Though I still do not see why you had to ruin a perfectly good morning for this…”

“As I said, I needed you undivided attention. I need you to take this seriously.”

Arthur turned his heal and like a petulant teenager strode towards the door. His father’s voice broke his progress just before he reached the door. His voice was low, steady, though not without warning.

“Arthur, listen to me now, and listen to me carefully. That boy is going to burn. That boy is going to die, no matter what trivial arguments you put in place to stop it, and do you know why I am so certain? Because the boy deserves to. So you had just better get over whatever thrall he has on you and learn to move on. You need to get over this.”

“I will get over this when I am sure you are not about to kill a good and loyal man.”

Arthur fled the room, and left his father to whatever morning evolutions he still had to conduct. It was now a fight for Merlin’s life, but Arthur was beginning to wonder just how successful they would actually be.

*~*~*

Thanks so much for reading!

I know this was a relatively short chapter. It is the first part of the overall ‘Chapter 9’, which in itself is quite lengthly. And then the next chapter is the epilogue! The end! The main section of chapter nine needs quite a lot of work which I was unable to focus on last month, so I thought that since there was a natural break here, I’d post it separately and allow myself the space to focus on the work that really needs doing. I cant say when Fires 9b (or, chapter 10) will be ready- keep an eye on my twitter account for updates, but I would imagine early March, as I have a second story I am also working on in tandem (Somewhere Else To Be).


	11. Authors Note. Delay due to bereavement

Author note.

Firstly, I really want to apologise for the delay in posting. Unfortunately, my family received a call in mid-February that my grandmother was extremely ill, and was unlikely to survive. Since then, my mother has been spending most of her days by her bedside. As you can imagine, this has been an extremely stressful and harrowing time for us. A few days ago, she finally passed on.

Please forgive the delay to things whilst we try and come to terms with our loss. I will continue editing and writing once the funeral is over, in several days’ time. I cannot give any real estimates as to when to expect the next chapter, as I do not know how well I will be able to work and focus, however, I give a tentative estimate at two to three weeks time. This is the penultimate chapter, before the big climax.

I will continue to give twitter announcements from now on, letting you know when I actually get back to work on the story, and how things are going, estimated update times. I’m sorry I’ve been silent until now, but hopefully you can understand why.

SapphireNight

.

UPDATE: Could I please say the biggest of all thank-you's for all of the warm messages that you have been sending me. I really didn't expect such touching messages of love from people I barely/didnt know; I can honestly say it was so heartening to discover those sitting in my inbox especially when I was having a particularilly low moment.

Thank you all so much for your love and understanding, and I'll let you know via Twitter as the new material comes along.

Again, THANK YOU.

SapphireNight


	12. Chapter 10: Will Not Be Made A Fool Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to say thank you for being so patient with me over these last couple of months. But also, more than that, thank you for being so caring, so understanding, and just so supportive in the wake of what has happened within our family. I can honestly say that your messages of kindness and condolences were not only unexpected, but also a great, great comfort. So thank you to those blessed amazing people who took the time to contact me, and thank you generally to all of you for being so patient.
> 
> THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER! At around 4,800 words long, it’s one of my longest, so I hope this makes up in some part for the extended absence. The next chapter is the big finale- the epilogue as it were, and then….. We have a sequel!!! If anyone has any better ideas for the title other than ‘BTFOC Part 2’, please let me know, lol!

*~*~*  
By the time that Uther had finished his leisurely morning activities and generally delayed the audience as much as possible, a little over an hour and three quarters had passed. Arthur had been left standing at the head of the Great Hall, pacing back and forth before the empty throne whilst the other dozen or so inhabitants chattered quietly to each other, throwing the occasional apprehensive glance in his direction. Gaius stood off to the side, watching the harassed prince with quiet concern. At the very back of the hall knelt the large cook, heavy-set chains hanging from her arms and ankles securely tying her to a ring in the floor and flanked by three accompanying guards. Nobody stood within a good two metres of them, the guards driving back anybody who got too close with all the intimidating presence they could muster whilst standing beside the eighteen stone woman. The cook, for her part, glowered at those around the hall, a thick wad of off-grey material stuffed in her mouth and tied off tightly round the back of her head.  
When the small door at the front of the room opened and Uther walked the short distance to his throne, an immediate hush fell over the congregation.  
“Now, if you could care to explain why this matter is so important, you saw fit to bring it to me in such an appalling way this morning?”  
“Father, we have come to argue for the defence of Merlin. We do not believe he should be put to death.”  
Uther was silent for a moment, his face stoically blank as he regarded Arthur with scorn.  
“You do not, do you? Merlin was caught using magic. The use of magic is strictly prohibited in Camelot. Magic users are executed. Please explain to me what part of Merlin’s sentence is unjust.”  
A cry of ‘all of it’ sounded from the back of the hall. There was a soft tittering from some of the room, but nobody spoke up further. Uther surveyed the crowd with a haunting eye, before turning back towards his son again.  
“How about now we have this morning’s stupidity out of the way, we start getting back to seriousness.”  
“I am being serious, Father. We do not believe that Merlin should die. And I have gathered other people who have a strong case for this. Your Majesty, the people in this room are the people that Merlin saved, and are all critical to the running of this town, both the upper and lower social ends. He saved them from certain death, and effectively saved Camelot from ruin. It is because of him that Camelot survives.”  
Uther was silent again, though this time it was not of his own dramatic design. He surveyed the angry and tepid faces in the hall once more, his own expression changing from unimpressed to concerned, disappointed, then finally, to resigned defeat.  
“You are actually serious? You’ve actually gathered people…”   
Uther’s voice dropped off and he muttered something about ‘responsibility’, ‘inheriting’ and the ‘care of the kingdom’. When he spoke again, his voice rang out crystal clear.  
“My god, what has he done to you. He’s completely put you under his spell; all of you. He has cast magic upon each and every one of you, and now you are all rushing to his defence! He is controlling you!”  
Arthur crossed his arms. “No, father. I am under no delusions or persuasions on Merlin’s part. I am simply doing what I believe is right. As do all of these people.”  
Uther motioned for his son to come forward. He cast another glance around the room as he leaned in towards him.  
“Arthur, think about this carefully. Merlin lied to you. He betrayed you.”  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
Uther sat back with a huff.  
“And technically, Merlin didn’t lie. No one ever asked when he was given the position whether he had magic or not. We don’t systematically go round all new servants and ask ‘Are you a sorcerer’? We just assumed he didn’t. He may have hidden his abilities, but we never asked him in the beginning whether he had magic. So you cannot say that he lied.”  
Uther looked unimpressed.  
“If you wish for that to be the new standard protocol, that can be arranged. Or, if you really want to play it that way, why don’t we just call back the Witchfinder and have another full inquisition?”  
Arthur glanced away, returning Uther’s angered gaze with one of hard disgust.  
“You forget, father, that the Witchfinder was also found guilty of using magic himself.”   
“You cannot trust anybody these days.” Uther muttered to himself. Arthur raided his eyes in shocked disgust, and vaguely considered mocking him when the king’s face hardened again.  
“Is that really what you wish your new role to be- to go around to every village idiot and ask them all whether they can use magic? And anyway, that is beside the point. Whether or not you question everyone, the law states that magic is prohibited from all Camelot. There can be no argument on this fact- it is written. Do you wish to also question and inform people of our other laws whilst you attend to your new duties- that the slaughter of a peer is prohibited by our laws by pain of death- have you killed anyone recently that we should be aware of?” Uther announced, pinning some random person in the crowd with his gaze. They shuddered and shook their heads. He rounded on another. “Do you have any plans on overthrowing the kingdom or of joining the knights when you are not of noble blood?”  
Arthur shied back, face going slightly red, but he countered his father regardless.  
“No, that’s completely stupid, but I just wanted to make the distinction that he never actually denied that he had magic. It doesn’t matter either way, Merlin still had no choice but to hide it, he knew he would have been executed.”  
“And quite rightly so! Do you not hear yourself? You are forgetting that Merlin has been questioned several times over the years over the use of magic. From bringing in the Witchfinder, to, am I right, even arresting Merlin for sorcery on two separate occasions previously, for which he was eventually released. He even interrupted a meeting once announcing that he was one. There are only so many times a man can be ‘falsely’ accused of something before it is telling that he is actually indeed guilty of his repeatedly accused crimes.”  
“Then you can hardly say that he has been –”  
“BUT HE HAS! Do you not understand, that boy- that man is dangerous!”  
Arthur sighed, and fell quiet. A cough and a shuffle behind reminded the young man that they were not in the privacy of their own quarters; they quite literally had an audience.  
After another few moments of staring and deep breathing, Arthur tried again.   
“We believe, that as Merlin was acting in our- in Camelot's best interests, his sentence should be reconsidered. Or at least reduced.  
“It has come to my attention that a harsh secondary punishment has already been delivered. This has been detailed as being for Merlin’s apparent treachery and disloyalty towards our family and to Camelot. I would like to put it to you that in light of my manservant's continuing loyalty to myself and the kingdom, that the barbaric punishment he has already received be re-labled as being for Merlin’s sorcery, and that no further action be taken against his life.”  
Uther shifted in his throne, his face darkening into something perceivably dangerous.  
“Punishments cannot be switched about and exchanged at your every whim, Arthur. What sort of judicial system is that creating if we can just allow people to pick and choose how they are to be disciplined—?”  
Arthur shook his head, suddenly angry.  
“I am not talking of each and every criminal. I believe that Merlin has been unfairly punished.”  
“HE GOT WHAT HE WAS DESERVING OF!” Uther suddenly bellowed.  
“The flesh was stripped almost completely from his entire back! The act of flogging a man to that extent; it’s barbaric! We haven’t used such methods for years!”  
“He lied to you! He was a danger to you! To us; to the kingdom! He needed to have been made an example! They cannot infiltrate out kingdom and put our people- my son, at risk. The amount of damage he could have done if we hadn’t have caught him now; the amount that he has already wrecked! He needs to be punished!”  
Arthur stopped, fell silent. Took a deep breath.  
“Father, the reason we are assembled is to hold an organised debate over the fate of Merlin. A trial, if you will. Because we believe that though he has magic, he’s never used it to antibody's detriment. Father, please, just hear us out. We just wish to give a proper and full argument, and then you may make your final judgement at the end of it. And I give my word as Prince of Camelot, that that will be the end of it. No more arguing, no more trying to intervene or counter your decision; so long as you allow us a full and proper hearing, we will accept whatever decision you make.”  
A few of those gathered behind him looked a little unhappy with Arthur’s announcement, but the prince appeared confident.  
Uther looked over them all, drew a long, slow sigh, and finally agreed.  
Arthur nodded, letting out a slight sigh, before glancing back to receive a nod from Leon. He then turned back to acknowledge the assembled people.  
“Father, we are not talking about someone who has only just entered the kingdom. He has worked within the royal household for the past three years – the majority of us gathered here have worked closely with him during that time, we have come to know of his character, something which we believe you are quick to throw aside.  
“It is a reputation that has never been questioned before now- in fact, until last week, most of us would easily have called him one of our most loyal servants. I know you did too. Those previous times where he claimed to have magic, none of us believed him. In fact, we all just laughed in his face.”  
“And that is what makes his betrayal that more treacherous. He completely hoodwinked us.”  
“The fact is, magical attacks on Camelot have actually decreased over the last few years.”  
Uther shrugged.  
“And who is to say that that is on account of anyone other than yourself and the other knights? Attacks have decreased purely because of my anti-magic campaign.”  
Arthur exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Sir Leon.  
“Sire, the magical attacks should have increased with sorcerers trying to overthrow you, to return to the old regime. Merlin has been stopping them.”  
Uther scoffed, “And have you witnessed Merlin halting any such previous attacks? Have you, knight, witnessed this, and yet failed to have him arrested?”  
Leon shook his head.  
“No.”  
“Good. Then I don’t have to arrest you for treason.”  
Uther nodded, collecting himself. “So what proof do you have? You can’t even say exactly by what margin these attacks have supposedly decreased.”  
Arthur quickly called forward the elderly scholar, the man wearing his customary frown as if this whole palaver was all a great inconvenience for taking him away from his dusty hall of records library. However, those who knew him well enough over decades working in the castle could recognise his tells. The way his movements were slightly sharper than his usual sloth-like ease, and how he cleared his throat and stretched his neck out like a serpent before speaking, showing that he was just as apprehensive as everyone else.  
“What can you tell the assembled about the frequency of magical attacks on Camelot within the last three years, both attempted and successful, compared to previous years?”  
The scholar’s dour gaze lingered on Arthur for a few moments, before he raised his pince-nez to his nose and opened a thick leather-bound volume. He studied it for a few long moments, before simply announcing,  
“Over the last twenty years, magical attacks on the city or the Royals have gradually increased; magical strikes often coinciding with royal functions, most notably landmark anniversaries of Arthur‘s life. Over the last five years, magical attacks have been at its highest since the ban- to be expected as Arthur has now reached maturity, both physically and mentally. However, within that same timespan, specifically the latter three years which the boy has served at the castle, successful magical attacks have been at their lowest since Arthur’s birth.”  
The prince nodded. Uther looked unimpressed.  
“And what would you, as scholar and purveyor of the records, attribute to this quite unusual trend?”  
The scholar regarded Arthur with a frown for a very long moment, before declaring (with all the disgruntled sentiment his face expressed),  
“I would have no idea why or how the success of attacks has decreased. I can only register that they have.”  
For a few moments, Arthur looked completely scuppered, glancing back at Gaius and Leon with a pleading look. Leon took over as Uther beckoned the scholar forward and took the dusty volume off him.  
“The success of magical attacks have decreased because they have been thwarted before completion. Whilst, as one of the lead knights, I’d like to be able to take credit for that accomplishment, we have only been responsible for stopping about one third of those attacks.”  
“It says here,” Uther interrupted, his voice loud and ostentatious, “that nearly all of the rest of those has been on account of Arthur. Nowhere here does it merit the efforts of some mentally-challenged manservant.”  
Arthur took a deep breath.  
“No, father. I cannot take credit for all of these. I might have been present when they were stopped- I might have been the one recorded as thwarting them, but most of the time, they… I don’t know. Just sort of ceased to happen. Or went wrong, or just ended up destroying the sorcerer themselves. Most of the time I have only survived because of sheer bloody luck or coincidence. The number of times I have been completely overpowered, and then somehow they just… aren’t successful. Merlin has always been there, at my side. He has always been loyal- but I’ve never noticed before, he’s always been there with me when I face them- granted lagging slightly behind me- but I guess that’s why I’ve never realised before just how he’s been helping me. He’s always been just out of sight.”  
Uther shook his head slightly.  
“That still doesn’t prove anything.”  
“Look, Merlin’s been a pretty mediocre manservant… You all know I should have gotten rid of him within the first month after you appointed him, but I haven’t. In fact, lazy work ethic aside, I’ve never been more satisfied with any previous manservant. He has been a true confidant, and essentially a trusted friend.”  
Uther raised his eyebrows.  
“You qualify your manservant as a ‘confidant’ and ‘friend’?”  
Arthur looked sheepishly away, but did not refute the fact.  
“He’s never told others when I’ve been knocked off my horse for no apparent reason, or ever spread around gossip from private sessions. He’s almost sociable, when he wants to be. And he doesn’t tell- er-” Arthur scratched behind his ear, glancing away from his father’s gaze, “Certain people about events post the consumption of relatively large amounts of alcohol. I find that to be somewhat trustworthy. That and the fact that in three years he has never sold me out to any of our enemies, and I know for a fact that he has been approached in the past.”  
Uther looked steadily at his son, his dark expression almost unreadable.  
“Maybe he has simply been waiting to do the deed himself.”  
“Then why wait over three years to do so? He has never shown any ill-intention towards Camelot.”  
Uther simply grunted and waved them on to continue, all the while looking thoroughly bored in his throne. It didn’t slip notice, however, that his patience was growing thin.

“Gaius, please explain the type of magic that you witnessed Merlin performing exactly a week ago.”  
The physician bowed his head towards Arthur then turned to address the king.  
“My lord, the only magic by Merlin that was actually witnessed was strictly curative, healing magic. It saved the lives of all these people present and yourself included. People upon which the running and operation of Camelot is heavily dependent. I observed the magic. I understood each of the elements involved. There is no such malicious part of this magic; the spell cast is purely white- it is curative and good in nature.”  
“You observed the magic? So you just… stood by and watched as he wove magic over all of us?”  
“No, my lord. I was unable to reach him. But as I said, I recognised the magic; I wouldn’t have wanted to stop him even if I could have done so.”  
“But why, Gaius, was it necessary?”  
Gaius continued on as if he has simply been asked the ingredients of [a medical tincture/this morning’s soup].  
“I had been doing everything in my power to contain the spread of the disease, and to halt its progress within the body, but it was just too powerful for the treatments that I have at my disposal. I realised very quickly that there had to have been a strong magical component to whatever was driving it, yet I was powerless to do anything to combat it with non-magical medicine. I was completely overpowered- only magic could have stopped it, sire.”  
For the first time, Uther smiled mockingly at his old medical advisor, a cold determination set deep within his eyes.  
“What I mean is, if the illness was magical in origin, what is to say that Merlin was not the one who started the illness himself?”  
Gaius hesitated, rolling his shoulders under his gown like a bird ruffling its feathers in defence.  
“Nothing, per say, however the actual magic Merlin used- the magic that was seen and for which he has been arrested for, that magic possess nothing evil about it. The magic that went into creating the illness itself was purely malicious. It killed over two dozen people. It goes a long way to suggest that Merlin’s curative magic and the magic of the illness are dissimilar in the extreme, it is highly unlikely that the same person produced both.”  
“And yet, Gaius, we both know that an accomplished sorcerer can be well versed in many forms of witchcraft, both supposedly ‘light’ and the destructive. You witness the boy casting one thing, a bit of healing, and you automatically assume that that is the only thing he produces. You cannot generalise the nature of a person based on one sole act.”  
“And you cannot condemn him solely on the sins of others!” Arthur seethed.  
Uther ignored him.  
“Merlin was the only one to be able to cure this. In your own professional opinion, Gaius, is that not the least bit suspicious that the one man to be able to stop a vicious disease that you yourself cannot touch, a disease with its routes in pure evil, is the only sorcerer known to be in Camelot at this time?”  
“He is the only one we know the identity of. There have been many occasions when we have known of the presence of a sorcerer, purely because some form of magic has been produced.”  
“But Merlin is in possession of those skills needed to produce it. The boy has magic. What great a leap is it that the one man able to cure it is also the same man to have cast it?”  
“It is… possible- but highly improbable.”  
Uther’s voice dropped low and dangerous.  
“And so we have our answer.”  
“Sire, Merlin saved lives. Your life. He cured you, and others who hold as strong a hatred of magic as you. He did this, knowing it would damn him.”  
“Then he really is as stupid as he looks. Your argument is flawed because you believe he carries a fear for his own life, and yet here you all are, standing before me- trusted advisors and magic haters alike, trying to get me to change his sentence. And do you know that that only proves one thing? That he has continuously used his magic to spare his own life. That he is selfish, and will do anything not to die. Many of these battles he has been present at took fatalities- Arthur has been seriously injured on several occasions, and yet Merlin did not prevent that occurring. He did not prevent the needless deaths of Camelot’s men before now. I do not see how you try and entertain that this provides some measure of his ‘good character’ when it seems obvious to me that he holds no great loyalty to Camelot, but only to himself.”  
“He could easily have let you die,” Gaius interjected, his voice suddenly harsher then he had ever used against anyone present before, let alone the king. “He could have let Arthur inherit the throne, let their friendship work in his favour towards the new king. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to see Arthur or Camelot hurt in that way.”  
“And what is there not to say that Merlin created the illness himself in an attempt to gain power by bringing this great nation to its knees and then rescue it from the brink of destruction, and at the same time poison the minds of the people. It is a very clever way to gain power, and to reshape the people’s opinion towards one of the darkest destructive forces in this world.   
“Look at all of you! He is only a servant, you should not care what happens to him, and yet you are all braying like panic stricken mongrels for his release.”  
Uther looked over the congregated people.  
“It seems obvious to me how far you have all been taken in. It is also apparent that I am the only person who has not been similarly bewitched, and because of that, maybe Camelot has been saved from some dark fate.  
“All that you have shown to me this morning is that he is obviously a much more powerful sorcerer then I or anyone had ever originally anticipated. Not only has he hoodwinked the general populous, but also my most trusted courtiers and advisers into believing for three whole years he was a simple, ‘good natured’ boy that he presented to the entire world. He has lain low, integrating himself within Camelot as a meek, non-dangerous man for three whole years. My most faithful advisers- even my own son, are all arguing in his defence. People who know exactly how destructive and evil magic is. Merlin’s magic obviously runs far deeper and far stronger than anyone could have originally anticipated.  
“He has caused dozens of people to act out of character, and to potentially severely damage the rule of this great and mighty kingdom. The head cook, loyal for three decades I am told, is now serving uncooked food to her king, breaking all codes of sanity and decency. Our scholarly record’s keeper, who for the last forty years has documented each and every attack of magic, is now arguing in the boy’s favour. Horrifyingly, my own son, the crown prince, who not only knows the dangers and perils of magic better than anyone here; who has grown up schooled knowing that magic is evil, is reportedly the one who instigated and led this ‘trial’ fiasco. Most worryingly of all, Merlin has had the whole general populous siding with him, threatening to disrupt fair rule. And potentially overthrow the kingdom.  
“This has proved to me, irrevocably, and without a failure of a doubt, that the sorcerer known as Merlin must die. Only then can everyone be released from his spell and return to their own right minds. So tonight, an hour after sun-down, he will stand before the entire city and burn.”

Arthur stood staring at his father in horror as the world seemed to tumble and darken around him. His gaze slid over to Gaius, his face going ashen white as he seemed to list to the side, shock clinging to every line of his worn features. His charge irrevocably stolen from him. Leon marched over to Arthur and forcibly took him by the shoulder to turn him around, putting their backs to the king so Uther couldn’t see just how far his words were killing him.   
The hand on his shoulder seemed to ground the prince for a few moments as their heads briefly bowed together, until suddenly that was wrenched away from him. Uther was pulling him away from the others; pulling him away and looking deep into his eyes. Arthur tried to steady his breathing, tried to stop the pain from betraying his face; tried to look like the model crown prince in front of a king who had just sentenced his friend, an innocent men, to death.  
He obviously didn’t succeed.  
Uther suddenly pushed his son away from him and started shouting.

 

“GUARDS! Guards! Arrest all these people and escort them to the dungeons! Everyone, including Arthur! They are all still under the touch of the sorcerer! Remember- they are no longer your superiors as long as they are not of rational thought. Make sure they are held away from the boy; they are to have absolutely no contact with him. They will remain there until the time of the execution, where they will be led out to stand and watch, restrained, on the platform with me as he burns until they are released from whatever powerful magic is corrupting them. If the sorcerer’s death does not release them, then they will all be dismissed, banished from the lands of Camelot and their places within the court filled!”  
Screams of outrage and terror flooded the great hall as two dozen loyal guards descended upon those within and started restraining people with brute force. Uther extricated himself from the proceedings, swiftly marching over to hesitate by his throne for a few moments before quickly exiting out of the small side door he had originally emerged from.  
A heavy female baritone cry of ‘expendable’ rang out as finally the last of the assembled were forcibly removed from the hall and taken to the dungeons to await the death of the warlock.   
Forced together in the cold, dank cell, Arthur found he had nothing left to say to the others. He had failed. There was nothing left that they could do. Merlin was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, but there’s no April Fool’s joke here. Penultimate chapter- the next is the epilogue. Get your hankies out.
> 
> I would sincerely like to thank the people who sent me messages and gave me support in response to the previous chapter.


	13. By The Fires Of Camelot, Will Uther Have His Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you dear readers for your commitment to this story and your support. I know it’s been a long time coming, but this is finally the end chapter to ‘By The Fires Of Camelot’. There will be a sequel- ‘By The Trials of Night’- but please bear with me if it takes a little while to get out. Though I have approximately 1/3 to 1/2 of the story- of a similar total length to this one- already written, we are neck deep in selling our house and planning a major relocation, so I may not be able to spend much dedicated time on my writing.

By the Fire’s of Camelot, will Uther have his Way.

 

The twilight skies over the citadel courtyard were dimming as the people gathered in its deepening shadow. It was only just after sunset. The sky was still moving in sweeps of purples and reds, yet the heavy hues of night were fast pooling in their wake.

The colours were setting. Light was fading. The time was approaching.

At an hour past sunset will the sorcerer burn.

The platform that had been built for the original execution had for the second time in its construct, borne the weight of its purpose- the pyre and the damned. The pole stood erect from a smaller platform several metres off from the front of the main one, a raised podium which reached out into the crowd via a thin walkway connecting it to the main stage. Whentimbre was your only rapid construction material, you didn't want to be standing on a platform with a fire designed to kill. When the pyre was lit, the bridge would be removed and after the two hours or so it took for the pyre to complete its purpose, the smaller platform would eventually burn to the ground through the course of the night, the main stage left standing in its wake. 

Uther had foretold dark times ahead. The stage would need to remain standing for the executions of those who continued to thwart his laws. Magic was evil. Magic would die. Magic could not be viewed upon favourably, or they were as likely as to invite it in as they were to use it. And magic was evil. Magic could not preside within the boundaries of Camelot.

The crowds looked up at the young man tied to the raised podium. He was shivering violently, bound with ropes to a central pole, the thin discoloured tunic and trousers the only thing shielding him from the elements. That, and the great stack of firewood gathered under his feet. The thin, stained cloth would have left one feeling cold in the heat of the day, however as night set in, the temperatures now steadily dropped as if the sun itself had forgotten them. And yet he was not struggling. Apart from the occasional violent shudder when the wind blew too fiercely, the young man was still, his eyes occasionally flickering over the assembled crowd before closing in the calm approximation of sleep. Never mind, it would be warm enough, shortly. He was silent; his breath taken from him in the brief wisps of hot breath. His lips moved soundlessly as his brow creased in frustration, and then he would glance over the crowd in helplessness and the panic would set in once again.

Behind Merlin on the main platform stood the dozen men and women who had spoken in his defence. All with their wrists bound and their ankles chained to one another, all to bear witness to the destruction of the man who had saved their lives. Arthur stood to the front of the group, just his hands bound yet no chains linking him to the others. Two burly guards simply gripped his arms.Gwenivere stood freely behind him, gripping his fisted palms. They watched the back of Merlin’s form with agony on their faces.

The only people not present was the executioner and the King. 

From somewhere distant, a single gong-like bell ring sounded. Uther walked out from the castle and onto the platform to the universal silence of the crowd. A deathly hush. The silence of a nation unable to oppose a tyrant.

Uther stepped forward and looked over the crowd with his utmost regal and dominant air. The breath from his lips were cold.

“Magic can not be trusted. The men and women you see before you on this platform were all tainted by its touch when that sorcerer put his magic upon them under the pretence of saving their lives. Yes, magic did restore them to full health, but at what cost?

“These men and women have now been corrupted! People who believed in the law of this land, who knew of the evil that magic does; they are now displaying heresy against everything they had previously believed in. My knights, my scholars and advisers. Even my heir.”

Uther walked up to the group. He stopped before Leon, shackled just left of centre.

“Should the sorcerer die?”

“Merlin saved our l-”

Uther moved on.

“Should the sorcerer die?” he spat at someone else.

“No, he-”

“Do you believe in the sanctity of this kingdom, and the laws that it is built upon.”

Arthur shuddered as his father’s breath swept behind his neck. Gwen emitted a thin gasp and edged away from the king, her head cast firmly downward.

“Yes, I do, father.”

“Do you believe that magic is evil, and should be banned?”

“Yes I do.” 

The response was instantaneous.

“Should magic users be punished for their crimes?”

This time, Arthur hesitated.

“…Yes.”

“Should Merlin die?”

“No.”

Yet again, his response was immediate.

Uther drew back to the address the crowd.

“You may believe that magic can help you; you may even believe that it can even save your lives, but magic is evil. Magic can never be ‘light’, or ‘beneficial’; magic has one purpose, and one purpose only. _Destruction._ I delayed in the execution of this man two days previously, and this is what has become.

“But now I am here to show you that magic will always get what is coming to it. Magic will always be punished within this kingdom; n _o exceptions.”_

Uther signalled for the torch to be lowered to Merlin’s feet.

Gwen screamed; Gaius took in a heavy breath and Arthur began to struggle against the guards. As the flames quickly caught and rapidly descended into the construction below Merlin’s feet,Merlin’s head bowed as if in submission; his eyes closed tight against the effects of fate. The crowds started to animate as heads turned and arms pleaded, yet there was nothing anyone could do against their king. Where there had been bated breath and hushed whispers, the yells of angry voices arose. The kindling surrounding Merlin’s feet began to catch alight and spread. The fire started to take hold.

And something other than wood was fuelling the flames.

The fire had not reached his skin yet, but it had decidedly taken hold deep within the pyre below. Merlin’s face was alight with panic, his eyes wide as he desperately glanced around the assembled courtyard and down to the burning wood at his feet. He gave a final gaze up at the sky, screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

The mouthing, muttering that had tumbled from his lips previously renewed. Deeper and deeper; dark, desperate utterances that no one could make out or understand. But they could guess. Had Uther been burning a Christian, the words would have been recognisable as The Lords Prayer. Pagans had another prayer, as did the Druids (though their words were steeped in ancient magic). And for those whose beliefs resided in magic… No matter what the belief, they all prayed in the end. That was, until the words could no longer be recognised from the screams.

Arthur renewed his efforts fighting against the guards, his panic stricken face a mirror of Merlin’s.

“Father, please, you must stop this, this cannot happen!”

Uther glanced towards his son with disdain.

“You promised once I gave my verdict, you would comply. You can never go back on your promises when you are king, or you will be weak. The people will not follow a weak king.” 

Arthur pulled his eyes back towards his friend.

Merlin was now standing atop a mountain of flame.

Deeper and deeper Merlin’s voice developed until he could have been shouting, and yet no one could distinguish his words from the heavy percussion of the fire. The words would not carry over the roar of the flames. 

The flames were spreading, and as they grew, the higher they became. It lit up the entire area, great spikes that grew and diminished and threw shards of colour out over the walls and faces of those forced to watch. Merlin continued his guttural chanting, over and over again set against the backdrop of pain and light. Suddenly, one pale yellow spike jumped up and made contact with Merlin’s ankle. The chant broke with the first recognisable agonised shriek. Still shackled against the thick pole, he began convulsing with pain, yet still continued yelling out into the night. The flames grew taller as they became deeper seated. They started rising to great heights around him, curtaining him; almost shielding him from the horrified faces of the gathered, yet bringing the deadly heat in closer.

The fires had begun touching him now, lapping at his toes and calves in regular succession. The screaming now became indistinguishable from the cries of his chant.

Merlin continued rasping out the hollowed words as the flames soared even higher, great leaps and jumps flickering at head height. Dances of yellow around his eyes; the people could not tell, were they glowing with that same bright flame or was it just the reflection of death’s light in his eyes?

The fire was out of control. Even King Uther began to doubt- yet these were his flames of destruction, and they would ultimately serve him in the end.

The flames were now the most powerful that anyone had ever seen. Never once had anyone seen them take hold so quickly, yet they danced around like hell itself were fuelling them.

The words began to choke in Merlin’s throat as the fabric covering his legs and arms caught alight. He began viciously thrashing against the pole, yet there was no relief. The flames kept rising, the fire kept burning, Merlin’s agonised cries morphed into screaming. And yet still the dark unknown words continued tumbling out of his mouth, accompanied by the guttural screams that were wracked from his being.

The flames rose even higher, completely obscuring him from view as the pyre became one massive tower of inferno. At nearly an hour and a half after sunset, the courtyard was once again bathed in the glorious golds and yellows of the sun. Each and every face was lit, each and every expression burning in intensity as the light flickered across them. Gwen’s tears glistened as her chest heaved; Gaius’s distraught face dissected by the deep creases hollowed by the flame; Arthur’s horrified gaze; Uther’s triumph overcoming his brief insecurity.

The massive bonfire hid it’s human contents with the light and shadows of burning embers and six foot flame. Finally, the screams of the condemned could not be distinguished from the screams of the fire. Neither could the shadows of ember be distinguished from the blackness of the flames consumption, the shadows of the night.

As the flames rose yet even higher, there was no doubt now that magic was fuelling the fire. Nothing burned this fast, this furiously, this tall. It was the only consolation that Merlin’s friends could take- the end would be ultimately quick for him.

Finally, as if having consumed all that Merlin had to offer, the towering fire began to diminish. As rapidly as if it had never happened in the first place, the hot shards of flame withered away. The long flecks simply ceased to be, and as the white-hot curtain was removed from in front of the people’s eyes, only the scenes of destruction remained. The fire that had burnt hotter and brighter than anyone would have believed, was now little more than wisps of gold buried deep amongst the dying embers and ash.

All fuel had been extinguished. There was no body. There was never any body when the fire reached a certain heat. 

All that was left was a bed of thinly burning embers, glowing as the residual fire set about destroying the remaining timber of the small platform and pole that Merlin had been tied to.

There was nothing left.

Nothing at all.

Nothing but the screams of the damned against the cold, empty night, forever ringing in the people’s ears.

*~*~*

By the fires of Camelot, will Uther have his way,

And by trials of night, will Merlin rise another day.

 


End file.
